


An Omega's Worth

by g33kyclassic



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Regency, Cause Shaw is a bastard, Charles is a Sweetheart, Erik is crushing harder than a 12 year old girl, M/M, Protective Erik Lehnsherr, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 61,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g33kyclassic/pseuds/g33kyclassic
Summary: Charles Xavier, only son of the late Lord Brian Xavier, had grown used to living his life in quiet solitude in the country, exiled from public life.  Suddenly he is recalled to London by his step-father for reasons unknown.  Erik Lehnsherr is a ruthless businessman and owner of the most popular gaming hell in London.  He is owed a significant amount of money by Cain Marko and he intends to collect - the sooner the better.  Charles and Erik are brought together by unlikely circumstances, can they learn to trust each other?  Can affection grow from a business arrangement?
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 366
Kudos: 648





	1. Chapter 1

Charles braced himself with a wince as the carriage hit yet another series of bumps along the road. Winter was not an ideal time to be traveling along the roads of England. After being confined inside for the past nine hours, Charles was no longer able to find a position that did not send pain shooting down his left leg, no matter how many times he shifted and stretched. The chill from the cold January air crept into his bones and he pulled his great coat more tightly around himself, hoping against hope that it might prevent him from catching his death. If he arrived in London in less than perfect condition, Lord Marko would not be pleased.

Charles glanced at the missive his step father had sent him one week ago and repeated its brief contents to himself. There was no need to look at the hastily written note, Charles had long since memorized the two short lines within.

_‘You are to present yourself at the Marko town home in London immediately. Bring clothing worthy of a young gentleman of your station.’_

That was all. No explanation. No interest in Charles’ own well-being, although frankly that was not particularly shocking. Lord Marko had never been much concerned over Charles’ well-being before, it was highly unlikely he would start doing so now.

Charles sighed and then immediately gritted his teeth to hold in a moan as the driver hit a large dip and the carriage tilted and lurched, throwing him into the side of the carriage with force. He pushed himself upright with no small difficulty. Clutching at his pocket watch, he checked the time and let out a long breath: only two hours until they should reach London. 

Two hours more of pain and discomfort. Two hours more alone with his thoughts. There was nothing for it of course, he could not stop the carriage any more than he could stop his wandering mind. When Lord Marko commanded, the only option was to obey. Which was exactly why Charles had spent the last four days traveling from the Westchester estate in Cheshire to London, much to his great dismay.

After having spent the past five years banished to the Westchester estate, the seat of his father’s family, firmly outside of the eye of the ton, Charles could not begin to imagine why Lord Marko would call upon him now. The season had not yet begun (as no one had any desire to travel under such poor conditions), and the peerage would mostly still be in the country waiting for parliament and the balls of the season to begin. If Lord Marko was finally, after so many years, willing to attempt to marry Charles off again, now did not seem to be the ideal time to do so.

Charles could not help but long to return home. The five years in Westchester may have been isolated, and to a certain extent lonely, but they had also been illuminating. Out from under the control and disapproval of his mother, Lord Marko and his step-brother Cain, Charles found he thrived in the country. Running an estate had proven to be extremely stimulating and he had been shocked to find that over the years, the staff and tenants of Westchester had come to respect him and his choices, despite their initial reluctance at being left in the hands of an omega. A jilted, deformed omega at that.

To find himself summoned to London, where he could possibly be seen by members of the ton, had been shocking. Lord Marko had nearly shipped him off to the Americas five years ago after the fallout from his unsuccessful marriage – he clearly did not want Charles to have any opportunity to embarrass the family any further. 

Charles wracked his brain to think of why he might have been called to town and why now? 

Lord Marko had been struggling with money, rumours of that fact had reached even the countryside of Cheshire. It was possible his step-father had sent for him in order to have Charles sign away more property – though at this point Charles had little to give aside from Westchester itself. As an omega, Charles should not have had control of any property, but his father, Lord Xavier, had been an eccentric, who had worked tirelessly to find legal loopholes and had left his full estate and all his holdings to his only son, whether that son turned out to be an alpha, beta, or omega. Though Lord Marko had attempted to contest the will several times, he had thus far been unsuccessful. Through the years, Lord Marko’s poor business decisions had caused him to travel to Westchester several times to threaten and coerce Charles into selling lands to fund the continued lavish lifestyle to which both Lord and Lady Marko were accustomed. Though there was little love between them, Charles could not in good conscious allow his mother to live a lifestyle not befitting a lady of her station, and had always agreed to assist. Now, however, there was little more he could do. They had simply run out of land to sell.

The only other logical option seemed to be marriage; either Charles’ own, or perhaps Cain’s. It was possible that Charles had made to journey to London for the happy occasion of his step-brother’s marriage. Cain was, after all, older than Charles, and as an alpha, he could assist with his family’s financial troubles by marrying an omega with an impressive dowry. Charles could admit that it was difficult to imagine Cain had been able to woo anyone into marriage – he was beast of a man, with a short temper and a penchant for cards and drink – but then stranger things had happened.

It was, of course, more likely Lord Marko had summoned him to marry him off to some less than savoury alpha who was willing to overlook Charles’ scandalous past, but, well, that hardly bore thinking about.

Determined not to spend the next two hours worried about being married off (or how horribly badly that had gone the first time Lord Marko had made such an attempt), Charles turned his thoughts to Westchester. Work on the estate was never done, and Charles settled himself to the task of making a mental list of what needed to be done in his absence. He would write to the stewart, Mr. Thompson, as soon as he was able.

* * *

It was worse than he’d imagined. Charles could not say he put much trust in his family, but he hadn’t expected to arrive in London after a dreadfully tiring journey and promptly be locked in a room like a prisoner. Thus far he had been in London for two days, had seen his mother once, eaten two meals and seen not hide nor hair of his step-brother or Lord Marko himself. The door to his room was locked and the two story drop from his window did not appear to be survivable. 

Whatever Lord Marko had planned for him, it was clearly not in his best interest. Unfortunately Charles had no one on his side, no one who might assist him in discovering what Lord Marko had planned. His initial hope that a servant might be willing to talk had proven fruitless – he’d barely seen any servants since his arrival aside from a few fleeting moments when a terrified young woman had delivered food to break his fast and removed his washing basin and chamber pot only to rush right out of the room before he could say a word. Otherwise he had been completely alone.

In the early evening of the third day locked away, fortune shined down upon Charles for a brief moment. Charles had never in his life been so thankful for his step-brother’s short temper, nor his step-father’s loud, booming voice.

“No, you cannot go to the club tonight!” Lord Marko’s angry voice drifted down to Charles room, faint, but clear. 

Cain’s reply was muffled, but Lord Marko cut him off quickly.

“I have made my feelings and instructions clear! You will obey me in this matter. Until Mr Shaw comes for Charles, you will stay under this roof. You will not gamble away what little we have left!”

“Shaw is not coming for over a week!” Cain’s protest was so loud Charles did not even have to strain to hear it. “Am I to be treated like a child until that little defective is carted off?”

“You will be treated like the irresponsible reprobate you have been! That ‘little defective’ as you call him, is our only way out of this mess and I will not have you ruining it!”

The sound of stomping footfalls passed Charles’ door and then – silence.

So, this was to be his fate. A Mr. Shaw. Charles could not say the name was familiar to him. As far as he could remember, Shaw was not a name associated with the peerage, which meant...well it meant Charles had no idea whatsoever what he might be walking into a week from now. He could be married off to a respectable businessman or could find himself in the hands of an underworld criminal. He could not, logically, take either scenario off the table.

Dwelling on the possibilities of his future was difficult to overcome, but it would do him no good at all. Charles took a deep breath and mentally steadied himself. His only focus at this time must be to develop a plan – escape was his only alternative to marriage.

* * *

“Report.” Erik commanded briskly, leaning back in the chair behind his desk.

Daylight had faded from the London sky some two hours ago, and the city continued to bustle as its inhabitants searched the streets for nightly entertainment. Erik Lehnsherr himself had little interest in the typical entertainment of brothels, gentlemen’s clubs and the theatre. As the owner of The Coin and Dagger, the most successful gaming hell in all of London, Erik was focused on his business and his alone. The night was young and play at his club would barely be beginning. Later this evening however, half of the wealthy men in London would be present downstairs, mingling, drinking and gambling their money away.

“You requested information on matters pertaining to Lord Marko and his heir.” His head of security, Raven replied.

“And what is Lord Marko up to now? Surely not looking for another loan?”

“No, he is not looking for money.” Raven agreed. “But there has been some...unusual activity at their Mayfair home. The son of Lady Marko has been spotted.”

“I was not aware Lady Marko had a son?” Erik puzzled.

“Yes, well he hasn’t been seen by anyone in the peerage for years and I don’t believe he has ever stepped foot in London. He had, until two days ago, been exiled to Westchester, the Xavier family estate.”

“You have deciphered why he is here now I take it?” 

“I believe, between myself and Moira, we may have the answer.” Raven nodded toward his housekeeper.

Erik waved his hand toward both women to encourage them to continue.

“Charles Xavier, the only child of Lord Brian Xavier and Lady Sharon, is an omega.” Moira stated primly. “He was set to marry Lord Stryker upon his 17th birthday some five years ago. By all accounts a fortuitous match, as Lord Stryker is an Earl, holds a great deal of power in governmental affairs, and has many profitable estates. He was nearly four decades Xavier’s senior at the time, but that is not unheard of. However, the marriage ended in scandal when Lord Stryker rejected the young omega immediately after the wedding. Their marriage was dissolved the day after the wedding which was quite scandalous and cost Lord Stryker a good deal of money for breach of contract. Young Xavier has not been seen in society since.”

“Word has gotten around the clubs that both Markos – the father and the son – have been seen in the company of Sebastian Shaw several times these last few months. Our informants within Shaw’s club have revealed he is planning to purchase a new omega. Moira and I believe that omega may be young Master Xavier himself.” Raven explained.

“You believe the Markos have plotted to pay off their debts by selling their omega relation to Shaw?” Erik deduced, unable to keep some of the scorn out of his voice. “They are willing to let a peer, the son of a Lord, become a part of Shaw’s harem of omegas?”

“Apparently so.” Raven replied stoically while Moira frowned.

“There are rumours, likely malicious rumours, possibly unfounded, that young Xavier is sickly, or deformed in some way and that is what lead to the dissolution of his marriage.” Moira added, speaking quickly. “I feel it is important that you know this, sir. He is almost certainly not the type of person who will earn Shaw’s favour or regard. I cannot imagine how he will...endure his time at Shaw’s club.”

Erik arched an eyebrow at Moira – as much as he respected her, her habit of forming personal attachments and letting her emotions overrule her mind was not something he could condone. 

“It sounds as though Xavier may be the key to dealing a blow to both the Markos, and to Shaw.” Erik murmured, leaning his chin onto his fingers. “You know Lord Marko’s schedule, yes?”

“The senior Lord Marko, sir? Or the younger?” Raven asked and Erik arched a brow that clearly implied Raven had best have information on both. “Both, then.” Raven commented, reading Erik’s meaning clearly. “Yes, we do.”

“Excellent. Find me a time when Lord Marko, the senior, will be away from his home – preferably for several hours. It is past time I paid Cain Marko a visit regarding his extensive debts and how he will be repaying them.”


	2. Chapter 2

Charles had confirmed, through a series of experiments featuring a handkerchief, a metal bucket and a satsuma, that a fall from his second story window would produce nothing but horrifying results. It appeared his only means of escape lay within the Mayfair town home. Somehow, he had to get out of his locked room, down the stairs and out the front door without being noticed. Given how stiff his leg felt and how awkward he knew the journey down the three flights of stairs would be, Charles was beginning to feel it was all a little hopeless.

He had managed to unlock the door though, which was certainly a start. Apparently a well placed strip of fabric was all it took it stop the locking mechanism from catching properly. Opening the door was not the problem. The problem was creating a diversion loud enough and long enough to distract everyone from observing him as he made his way downstairs and that Charles simply could not accomplish without assistance. Assistance he currently did not have.

With only three days left before the arrival of the mysterious ‘Mr. Shaw’ Charles was beginning to lose hope. Unexpectedly however, Lord Marko left the Mayfair house late that morning and then his mother departed as well, leaving the house to step into a carriage filled with gaggle of ladies all dressed in the latest fashions. Which left Charles in the house with only Cain and the servants. 

Moments later, when a sharp knock on the door broke the silence, Charles couldn’t help but pull the fabric in the lock and gently nudge the door open. Peering down the stairs and straining his ears, he was able to make out that a guest (a Mr. Lenshire perhaps?) had arrived to meet with Cain. Charles listened as Cain’s heavy footsteps trudged down the stairs and the boom of his voice greeted the unexpected visitor. With Cain and the visitor tucked away in the ground floor study and the servants busy in the kitchens, no doubt preparing tea for their new guest, the halls were quiet and still.

It seemed his opportunity for escape had finally, unexpectedly, arrived.

* * *

After years of hardship and clawing his way out of the gutter, Erik did not believe in luck. He believed in hard work, strength, and intimidation. He believed in planning, finding his opponents weaknesses and perfect execution.

It was meticulous planning, with a dash of espionage, that had landed him here today, after all.

Cain Marko, though a gentleman set to inherit a Barony upon his father’s demise, did not look the part. He was dressed in fine enough clothes, but lacked attention to detail – cuffs unlinked, coat too tight in his shoulders, scuff marks on his boots. His cheeks were flushed and his colour heightened, despite the early hour of the morning, suggesting he had either been up into the wee hours of the night drinking, or had begun his day with whiskey, rather than tea.

Erik was not surprised that Cain was practically begging for mercy within twenty minutes. His debts to The Coin and Dagger, and thus Erik himself, were significant. After an initial outburst of rage, that consisted of tossing a tea pot across the room and storming about aimlessly, Cain had collapsed as easily as a house of cards. 

“I cannot wait any longer for repayment.” Erik stated. “The club does not run itself and your debt is considerable. I have come to collect and cannot leave until that debt has been satisfied.”

“I have no means to pay you at this time Mr. Lehnsherr. If I could...I would give most anything to pay my account, of course I would. You must wait a few weeks, only just a few, I am sure I will have means at my disposal to settle the account.”

Erik watched Cain’s strained face, slightly green and grimacing tensely. Based on the digging of his network of spies, and his extensive knowledge of Cain’s finances, even if given the requested few weeks, Lord Marko the younger was highly unlikely to be able to repay his debts. The time to strike, if he wanted any repayment at all, was now.

“It cannot wait, Lord Marko. I understand at times money can be...unavailable and difficult to move. I am willing to make a bargain outside of the typical if necessary. Surely you have something of value you could give me to cover your debts – a piece of property, a family heirloom perhaps?” Erik suggested.

“No. I have nothing, sir.” Cain answered glumly.

Erik held in a frustrated sigh. Cain Marko was truly one of the dimmest men of the English peerage. It was one of several reasons he had lost a small fortune at Erik’s club. It also meant that Erik was going to have to tell him outright how he could repay his debts and hope that Cain was stupid enough to agree to the bargain this moment, without his father present to put a wrench in Erik’s carefully laid plans.

“There are rumours about that you have found a way to pay your debt to Mr. Shaw.” Erik began delicately. “I would be willing to accept whatever payment you were considering giving to him.”

“You would...” Cain stuttered. “You...well...you are...yes, you are an alpha.” 

Cain’s eyes widened as if this was the first moment he had ever thought about Erik in such terms. Given that Erik kept his personal and sexual life completely private, that was not exactly shocking.

“I am.” He agreed lightly.

“And you would be interested in Charlie?” Cain asked hesitantly, his voice lifting with something that Erik thought might be hope.

Suppressing a smile, Erik answered: “Yes, I would.”

“And you would forgive my debt?” Cain asked suspiciously.

“I would.” Erik confirmed with a brisk nod.

“You might not feel the same once you see the goods.”

Erik struggled to contain his disgust at Cain’s description of his own family as ‘goods’. The wealthy families of England lacked so much basic decency it was difficult to believe at times.

“Show him to me.” Erik instructed.

Cain immediately stood up and opened the door. Erik stepped out of the room, determined to meet the enigmatic young Xavier. He turned to walk down the hallway, and Cain gestured for him to climb the stairs. Erik had taken no more than a few steps upwards, before he caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye and he suddenly found himself grabbing at the body of a young man who had been tumbling down the stairs.

“Charlie!” Cain growled from his place behind Erik. “What in the world are you doing out of your room?”

It seemed, somehow, Erik had had the good fortune of literally finding himself with his arms full of young Master Xavier. It was almost enough to make him believe in luck.

*  
Charles gripped the arms of the unknown stranger who had stopped his fall down the stairs. He let his head hang down, and stared at the floor for several moments, absorbing the truth that his attempt to escape had failed miserably. The only point in his favour was that he hadn’t perished from the fall down the stairs. Bumps and bruises would surely bloom upon his skin by the ‘morrow, but for now he was still in one piece. Instead he found himself trapped by the mysterious guest and Cain. Hardly better circumstances than death as far as Charles was concerned.

Taking a deep breath, Charles planted his feet as firmly as he could on the stairs, holding the railing behind him and staggered to his feet, shutting in a hiss at the pain that shot up his hip.

He lifted his head to glance briefly at Cain and then turned his attention to the man who had possibly saved his life. The sight of the man nearly caused him to fall all over again. The man was dressed in dull colours, black, grey and white, austere and reserved. He was tall and lean, his body coiled with tension as if ready to strike at any moment. He was the most handsome man Charles had ever seen in his life. Drawing in a quick, desperate breath, Charles caught his scent, deep, dark and riveting, and nearly lunged forward to press himself back into the man’s arms once more. Dear Lord, his smell was exquisite. 

Charles closed his eyes and counted silently to ten. He opened them again with renewed determination and focused his attention on Cain.

“Yes, I thought I might go for a walk.” He said to explain he absence from his room.

“I thought...” Cain began, but even he seemed to think twice about admitting to locking Charles in his room in front of company. “You shouldn’t have left your room without assistance from a servant Charlie. You could have been hurt if not for Mr. Lehnsherr.”

Mr. Lehnsherr. So that was the name of the man who had caught him, the man with the amazing scent, the man Charles was trying, very hard, not to look at for fear of never being able to look away.

“Thank you, sir.” Charles said stiffly, with a slight bow that made his head spin before he grabbed the railing for support once more.

“Are you unwell?” Mr. Lehnsherr asked.

“A bit out of sorts from the fall, that is all.’ Charles replied.

“Well,” Cain interjected. “This is Charlie. What do you think?”

Charles felt his stomach drop. ‘What did he think?’, what did that mean? Was Mr. Lehnsherr here to inspect him and report back to Mr. Shaw? Charles wasn’t sure if he should want to pass muster, or if he should try to appear even weaker than he was in order to increase his chances of being rejected by Mr. Shaw. Either way he looked at it, nothing seemed to work to his advantage.

“He is...acceptable.” Mr. Lehnsherr chose his words carefully, his voice quiet yet firm.

“You will...you will forgive the debt in exchange for Charlie?”

Charles’ eyes widened in realization that Cain was planning to sell him off to Mr. Lehnsherr, now, in this moment. Apparently Cain and Lord Marko’s debts were so large and varied that there were two men to whom they owed vast sums of money. But there was only one of Charles. It seemed where ever he went, whatever debt they used his body to pay, there would still be one more.

“Yes. I will marry your omega and in return, I will forgive your debts.” Erik looked Charles over carefully, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. “And as I wedding gift, I will pay off half of your debt to Mr. Shaw.”

Charles felt his eyebrows raise and watched Cain’s mouth drop open.

“For him?” Cain said incredulously. “You’re going to marry Charlie?”

Erik turned to face Cain, his expression darkening. 

“Yes. And I would not question my generosity in this moment Lord Marko. You may find I will reconsider my offer.”

“No, ah...no, of course Mr. Lehnsherr. It is a very fair offer, very fair indeed.”

“Excellent. Then we will leave at once.” Erik looked over his shoulder at Charles. “Pack what you need. We will be leaving forthwith.”

“Now?” Cain almost shouted in panic. “You’re taking him right now?”

“Yes. I have made my decision. I will not be swayed Lord Marko. Unless you reject my offer?”

“No! No!” Cain scrambled. “Charlie, go get your things this instant.” 

Charles didn’t need to be told twice. He slowly eased his way back up the stairs and packed his meager belongings into his battered trunk. A few books, his clothes, one scuffed pair of Hessians, his great coat, and his journal: all his worldly possessions.

A cough startled Charles from his thoughts. He turned to find Mr. Lehnsherr, Cain, and the footman, all crowded at his door.

“Are you ready Master Xavier?” Mr. Lehnsherr, his future husband, asked.

Charles reached for his jacket and shrugged it over his shoulders.

“I am ready.” He answered, head held high.

Mr. Lehnsherr, Charles thought as he descended the steps and exited the house into the waiting carriage, was an unknown quantity. He was a man who held the debts of other men in his hands. He was not a Lord, though given his fine clothes and manners, he appeared to be a well educated and wealthy man. He had offered to pay off more of Cain and Lord Marko’s debts for the chance to marry him. He had given Charles a compliment – he had said he was ‘acceptable’, which was certainly more than Lord Stryker had ever said. He smelled...he smelled of steel and ink, of whiskey and smoke. He smelled of passion and longing, something Charles had not thought he would ever feel.

They were to be married. Perhaps Mr. Lehnsherr was taking him to a church right now – it seemed like something such a decisive man might do. Charles hoped Mr. Lehnsherr would be happier with him than Lord Stryker. He hoped his new husband might show him some kindness and understanding in the face of his...defects. He prayed that if Mr. Lehnsherr was disgusted with him, as Lord Stryker had been, that they might remain married and live separate, but satisfying lives. Perhaps his new husband would allow Charles to return to Westchester, while he conducted his business in London. It would be a lonely, childless existence, but it would be enough. It had to be enough.

They pulled up outside a small but stately looking church, as Charles had suspected they might. Charles took Mr. Lehnsherr’s hand as he stepped out of the carriage and shivered at the contact of skin against skin.

He was about to be married...again.

* * *

Moira stood still and resolute beside Raven as they awaited Mr. Lehnsherr’s return. He had estimated his ‘errand’ would take approximately three hours, it had now been nearly four. It was not like her employer to be untimely.

Moira glanced at Raven beside her, but as usual, the woman displayed nothing but casual indifference. She was leaning against the wall, picking at her nails with a knife, not even looking at the door.

“Do you think he was successful?” Moira risked asking.

“He would have been back by now if he hadn’t been.” Raven replied, putting her knife back in her boot.

As if by providence, the front door opened at that exact moment. Erik held the door and a small man walked through and Moira felt her breath catch in her throat. ‘Good lord’ she thought ‘what a beautiful, beautiful man.’ Her mind whirled a mile a minute as she tried and failed to imagine why such a delicate, beautiful young omega could possibly have been rejected by his mate as rumours would suggest.

“Master Xavier, this is my housekeeper, Moira.” Erik waved his hand in her direction and Moira beamed at the young man in front of her who met her smile with a hesitant twitch if his lips and a delicate nod of hid head. “And this is my head of security, Miss. Darkholme. She is generally at the club with me during working hours, but lives here on site to provide security for my home as well.”

Xavier nodded and replied softly, “It is lovely to meet you both. I look forward to making your acquaintance.”

“Raven, please show Master Xavier to his room. Moira, a word if you please.”

Moira followed Mr. Lehnsherr, curiosity peaked, as he walked into the drawing room. She, not Raven should have been the one to show the young man his room. If Erik wanted to talk to her about something else, it had to be very important.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Lehnsherr?” She asked immediately once they were alone.

“I have reason to believe my husband is not in good health.” Erik said with a frown.

“Your husband, sir?” Moira squeaked, unaware that Mr. Lehnsherr and the young Master had somehow already been married. “Not in good health?” 

“When I met him this morning, he fell down the stairs. There is some indication he was confined to his room – I observed a lock on the door, with the locking mechanism on the outside of the room. I should like you to summon Dr. McCoy. He is to come as soon as he is able.”

“Yes, of course sir.” Moira hesitated only slightly before continuing. “And for now, perhaps I can fetch some tea and sandwiches for the young master? He did look rather thin and pale.”

“Yes. Do that, unless he wants to rest.” Erik’s frown deepened and Moira felt her heart swell at the thought that her employer might actually care for his new husband. How unexpected and exciting! “You should go. Raven is not really the appropriate person to show him the room and introduce him to the household. It should be you.”

“Of course, sir. It would be my pleasure.” Moira stood proudly. “Oh, but Dr. McCoy, sir! Should I send Sean to fetch him?”

“Yes, that will be fine. I will find Sean and give him his task. Please see to Master Xavier.”

Moira practically bounded up the stairs. She may have been an old maid at five and thirty, running a household of London’s most notorious and successful gambling hell owner for the past five years, but she had never been more excited than she was in this moment. Mr. Lehnsherr was married! And to a beautiful young omega – a peer at that, set to inherit an estate if gossip was true.

Moira was almost skipping with happiness when she knocked and swung open the door to Master Xavier’s room. She stopped short with a small cry, hand going immediately to her mouth at the sight that greeted her.

“Oh, sir, please forgive me!” She cried, turning her back to the young man as quickly as possible. “I should not have entered without your permission.”

Moira stared pointedly at the door in front of her, but she could not quite forget the image of the young man on the bed and the bruises that covered his bare forearm.

“It quite alright, Moira.” A soft reply rang out moments later. “Raven mentioned you would be coming to speak with me, I should not have removed my jacket. I am properly attired now, you can turn around.”

Moira moved slowly until her eyes were back on the young man, standing carefully across the room, his arms behind his back, head held straight. ‘Such a fine young man’ she thought. Just as she was about to apologize once more, she heard a light tap on the door.

“Oh, that will be Kitty. Come in Kitty!” She opened the door and ushered the shy young woman through the door. “Put the tray over there if you please.” 

Moira scurried over as Kitty put down the tray of tea, sandwiches and biscuits.

“How do you like your tea mi’ Lord?”

“Two lumps of sugar, no milk please.” The young man answered as he carefully sat down. “Please join me.” He offered, motioning to the chair across from him.

“Oh! I couldn’t possibly -” 

“Please. And there is no need to call me ‘Lord’, as an omega I am not able to inherit my father’s title. I am simply a mister.” Master Xavier smiled. “I should like to learn as much about my new home as possible. It would be quite nice to talk over tea, would it not?”

“Of course Master Xavier, if you... if that’s what you want.”

So Moira found herself seated across from Master Xavier, carefully perched on the edge of her seat. Her eyes widened, no doubt as big as saucers, as he served her tea and handed her a plate of sandwiches before serving himself and then began asking her a multitude of thoughtful questions about the Lehnsherr household.

Moira could not help but wonder how Mr. Lehnsherr had found such a man: so kind, so thoughtful, so intelligent. To think Mr. Lehnsherr hadn’t even been looking for him in particular, that he’d simply wanted to make some sort of business deal with the Markos. Mr. Lehnsherr was always so focused on his plots and plans. He was a good man, Moira knew, though he hid it well from others, his staff knew of his generosity and his protective nature.

For the first time in her employ, Moira began to wonder if Mr. Lehnsherr was good enough. Was he good enough to woo this omega? Would he even try? Moira prayed that he would. She very much hoped she would have the honour of serving this young man for the rest of her days.

* * *

Erik stood still and silent, staring out the window of his study. He wasn’t looking at anything in particular, though he could see the movement of people and carriages before him, he was far too lost in thought to truly be aware of anything.

The only thing that could penetrate the deep chasm of his thoughts was the time. It had been over an hour since he’d sent Sean out to fetch the doctor and he had yet to arrive. Erik was not a patient man and it seemed, as odd as it was, that when it came to matters pertaining to the health of his new husband, he was even less patient than usual.

It was his new husband that occupied his thoughts as he waited. He could not seem to stop thinking about the moment he’d caught him in his arms and stopped his tumble down the stairs. Nor could he stop thinking about what Cain had said, how his words had suggested the Master Xavier was not permitted to leave his room without accompaniment. Just how long had he been in that room? What other limits had they imposed upon him? In what other ways had his new husband been mistreated?

His anger simmered as he waited. He was seconds away from storming out the door and dragging the doctor back to the house on his own, when Sean finally knocked on the door and the good doctor walked through, bag in hand.

“Good afternoon Mr. Lehnsherr.” Dr. McCoy said as he entered.

Erik observed his hunched shoulders and slow gait and wondered if it was finally time to convince the man to retire and bring his son from the country to London to take over his practice. Dr. McCoy was a stubborn man however, and had thus far refused to consider giving up his practice.

“Dr. McCoy.” Erik bowed his head slightly.

“I understand congratulations are in order, Sir.” Dr. McCoy replied with a small smile.

“Yes. Thank you” Erik replied stiffly. “I’ve asked you here to see my omega, doctor. I have some reason to believe he may not be in the best of health.” Erik explained.

“You’d like me to examine him?”

“Yes.” Erik nodded. “A complete examination, please. I want to know the exact state of his health.”

“Very well. Lead the way to my patient.”

Erik strode quickly up the stairs, pausing at the top to wait for Dr. McCoy, he pace much slower as he climbed the stairs.

“How old is your husband Mr. Lehnsherr?” Dr. McCoy inquired when he reached the top of the stairs, pausing to catch his breath.

“He is in his early twenties I believe.”

“Hmm. Old for an unmarried omega.”

“This is not his first marriage.” Erik replied, frowning at the thought.

“Ah, I see. Very good of you to accept an omega with a sullied reputation. Not many alpha’s are so open-minded.”

“My husband is not sullied.” Erik growled, surprised by the depth of his anger at Dr. McCoy’s words and yet absolutely sure that what he said was true.

Nothing about Xavier’s behaviour so far suggested he was anything other than a well bred, young man. He did not strike Erik in any way as one of those simpering, flirtatious omegas, eager for the attention of any alpha who spared them a glance. No, his husband was not that type of omega at all.

“Hmm.” Dr. McCoy cleared his throat carefully. “This is his room?” 

Erik nodded sharply as he knocked and announced his presence and that of the doctor. Within seconds Moira opened the door, a pleasant yet professional smile on her face. Erik looked beyond her, his eyes immediately searching for his husband, who he spied sitting in a chair by the fire, a cup of tea in his hand.

As Dr. McCoy introduced himself and explained the purpose of his visit, Erik’s gaze remained riveted on his new husband. He was shorter than average, which wasn’t uncommon for omega men. His hair was a rich chestnut colour and fell in thick waves around his head – Xavier wore his hair much longer than was currently fashionable, in contrast to Erik own closely cropped locks. His dark hair seemed to be the healthiest thing about him; Erik could see his skin was pale, his eyes were tired and drawn, and he was far too thin for a member of the peerage. His leanest resembled that of the young men Erik had roved the streets with after leaving the orphanage, not a well to do young man.

“Are you planning to stay for the examination, Sir?” 

Erik, his revery broken, looked up to find both Dr. McCoy and Lord Xavier were standing by the bed. Lord Xavier had already removed his jacket and his hands were hovering over the top button of his shirt, ready to remove his clothes to start the exam. The knowledge that this young man, his husband was about to remove his clothes in front of another alpha, even one Erik had expressly brought to examine him caused the hackles on Erik neck to stand on end. Erik took a few calming breaths before he replied.

“I will stay.” He bit out, realizing that he couldn’t have left if he tried.

“Very well Mr. Lehnsherr. We will begin with simple things Lord Xavier. I will check your heart and lungs to begin.” Dr. McCoy explained, looking quickly between both men, apparently understanding the odd tension that had suddenly filled the room when Erik refused to leave.

Erik could barely understand his reaction himself. He’d never been the type to let his baser alpha instincts to overwhelm him – he’d always had impeccable control. But not today. Today every fibre of his alpha hind brain was alert and focused on every movement Xavier and the good doctor made across the room. His nose was aware of Xavier’s light scent as it wafted across the room – it smelled of lemon, sugar, tea, and old books. His hand itched to replace Xavier’s own and undo the buttons of his shirt himself, despite the fact they had hardly had the time to share any intimacies. 

Erik closed his eyes tightly and thought of the plan. The plan had to been to marry the young omega, gain the status that was associated with his family name, its ancestral estate, its history in the peerage and provide Xavier with a safe home. Love, passion, the traditional mating of an alpha and omega had never been part of the picture. The plan had not been to engage in intimacies with his husband, but rather to find a partner who would prove fruitful for his business pursuits.

Erik averted his eyes from Lord Xavier’s partially bared chest and reminded himself of these facts. This marriage was one of convenience. It was to benefit both him and young Master Xavier, but emotional entanglements were problems, they held no benefit for Erik’s plans and it was essential that he remembered that. Xavier and his incredible blue eyes and tantalizing scent be damned.

Erik worked hard to keep his breathing slow and steady. He kept his eye closed and spent his time completing mental calculations in his head, forcing himself to think about tonight’s gaming at the club and his investments. He would not think about the soft noises he could hear coming from the other side of the room: the fluttering of clothing being removed, the sound of a body shifting on the bed, Dr. McCoy’s soft voice talking about each procedure, always careful to tell the young omega exactly what he was going to do, always asking for approval before he proceeded.

Erik had managed to complete his staffing rotation for the next next month, plan the meals for the next two weeks at home, and estimate the earnings the club would bring in by the end of the quarter by the time Dr. McCoy announced the examination was complete.

“Perhaps we can go back to your study, Mr. Lehnsherr?” Dr. McCoy suggested.

Erik noted that Dr. McCoy was keeping his body between Erik and his husband, blocking Erik’s view of the younger man. It irked him, but he brushed it aside and nodded his ascent, quickly leading the doctor out of the room and back down to the study.

“This is your first marriage, yes?” Dr. McCoy asked when they were both seated.

Erik said nothing, the doctor already knew the answer.

“And you have never mated with an omega in the past?” The doctor probed further.

“How is my husband’s health?” Erik countered.

He had absolutely no intention of answering the doctor’s personal questions. Dr. McCoy sat silent for a moment, perhaps hoping Erik would reconsider and answer his question.

“You husband’s health is... adequate.”

“Adequate.” Erik repeated.

“Yes. He’s underweight, as you’ve no doubt already noticed. He has some minor injuries, mostly bruising, which he reports came from a recent fall. With rest and regular meals, he should recovery quickly.” The doctor paused and cleared his throat. “As with any full medical exam of an omega I did my best to assess his capacity for breeding: your omega has never carried a child before but there is nothing to suggest he would not be able to successfully carry a child in the future.”

“Thank you doctor.” Erik managed to ground out between tightly clenched teeth.

The mere thought of the other man examining his husband so intimately grated at his last nerve.

“You will need to be sensitive to his leg however.”

“His leg?”

“His left leg. He has an old injury, a fall off a horse, or so he says. It is… rather ugly to look upon, quite unfortunate for an otherwise lovely young omega.” Dr. McCoy mused. 

Erik scowled deeply. “His leg causes him pain?”

“It would, yes. It’s an old injury, but it was not well treated. In my estimation he either received very poor medical care, or his family delayed seeking medical assistance for some reason. He didn’t say much about it, but my exam showed that he range of movement in his left hip joint is limited. You will need to be… aware that some alpha/omega mating rituals may not be possible for your omega.”

“Are you referring to binding rituals?” Erik growled, his fingers digging into the arms of his chair.

“Yes, of course. Many alphas prefer -”

“I do not prefer.” Erik stated, his words clipped and short.

“Very well.” Dr. McCoy nodded sharply. “If I may take my leave then, Mr. Lehnsherr?”

Erik nodded briskly. Before Dr. McCoy had even made it to the door, Erik had turned his chair around, his gaze fixed on the window overlooking the main street.

He now knew more about his husband and his health, just as he had wanted. Unfortunately, it had done nothing to ease the ache in Erik’s gut, the burning desire to know everything he possible could about Charles Xavier. Erik wondered if it was possible that feeling, that urge, would ever end.

* * *

Charles lay silent and still on his new bed. It was large, and soft, and possibly the most comfortable surface he had ever had the pleasure of lying on. Nevertheless, he found he could not appreciate it.

His thoughts were only of his husband, of Erik.

His fingers trailed lightly over his lips and he shuddered. Erik had kissed him today. He had kissed him at the end of the wedding ceremony, as was proper, as the priest had directed. Charles’ lips ached from that kiss.

Lord Stryker had kissed Charles those many years ago during their wedding. Charles could scarcely remember what it had felt like – it had been his first kiss and there was nothing he could recall about it, not a moment that he could grasp onto these five year later.

Charles thought he would remember Erik’s kiss until his dying day. He would remember how Erik’s scent had filled his nostrils; so heady, so rich, so completely alpha. He would recall the perfect fit of Erik’s mouth upon his own, the way Erik’s firm lips had pushed against his, the way Erik had caught Charles’ plump bottom lip between his own. Charles would never forget the whimper that had escaped his own throat at the feeling of being caught by Erik’s mouth. Nor would he forget how quickly Erik had moved away the moment he had heard the sound.

Charles couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if he had been able to hold in the pathetic noise. Would Erik have kissed him longer? Would he have seen him as worthy? If Charles had been better, if he had not been so weak and graceless, would Erik have wanted him? Would Erik be here in his bed if Charles had only been able to act as a proper omega should: silent and yielding, the perfect offering for the conquering alpha.

Of course Charle had failed. And he was alone in a dark unfamiliar room on his wedding night, wondering where his husband might be.

‘I will try to be better’, Charles thought. ‘I will try to be good’. Good enough for Erik. Good enough not to be thrown away and discarded as Lord Stryker had done. Good enough for Erik to tolerate his presence. If he could make himself indispensable, if he could be valuable to Erik, then this marriage might work.

Perhaps one day his lips would stop tingling and the memory of Erik’s kiss would fade. Perhaps.

* * *

Erik stood and looked out over the main floor of the club. The majority of his patrons mingled in the large open area below the staircase where he was was afforded the best view of the premises. Scattered around the edges of the club were darker alcoves, places for smaller groups who desired some sense of privacy. The club was bustling this evening, though not nearly as full of the peerage and other wealthy Londoners as it would be a few months hence, when the season began.

Tonight, the club held a tension. There was a current of violence in the air that Erik could almost taste on his tongue. He was just about to descend the staircase and go looking for the source of the unease, when Raven carefully positioned herself at his side.

“What has the crowd on edge tonight?” Erik queried, his voice low but insistent. 

“There was an altercation at Madam Celeste’s earlier this evening.” Erik arched a brow and waited for Raven to continue. “One of her girls went into heat, apparently quite unexpectedly. She had a house full of alphas at the time, of course, and you can well imagine how they reacted. Brawls broke out everywhere. The omegas did there best to hide, but Celeste couldn’t control the alphas once they got started – the scent of an omega in heat drove them wild. Myself and several of the boys had to go over to help her get the place cleared out. A few of the alphas made their way over here.”

Erik narrowed his eyes and surveyed the crowd closely. With the new information in hand, Erik was able to spot the group within a few seconds. There were four of them and even from this distance it was clear they were primed and ready for a fight. Given that they had recently been kicked out of brothel unexpectedly, with an omega in heat to rile them up, Erik has halfway shocked they hadn’t come to blows with their fellow gamblers already.

“They need to leave.” Erik ordered. “Now, before they get any worse. They’re itching to mate and they’ll not find any omegas here.”

Which was only true. Erik employed mostly betas, and a few select alphas at his club. No omegas, ever. They were far more trouble then they were worth, and Madam Celeste, only three doors down, had an entire houseful to meet the sexual needs of his clients.

“They’ve been asked several times. They refuse to leave.”

“Then we will make them leave.” 

Erik descended the steps quickly, the urge to confront the young alphas burning more strongly than ever. A persistent voice in his head reminded him that he had an omega to protect tonight – his omega – though Charles was safely tucked into his room in the townhouse adjoining the club. Erik shook his head to clear his thoughts, emotion was useless in the face of possible violence; a clear head was paramount.

Erik stopped in front of the small group of men, who all turned his way immediately, sensing a challenge from another alpha instantly.

“I must ask you gentlemen to leave the club for this evening. We have nothing here to meet your current… needs.” Erik stated.

The young man at the front of the group, a bulky young man with dark hair and darker eyes, inhaled a deep breath and took an aggressive step toward Erik.

“You’ve an omega. I can smell it.” He sneered. “All we want is a little piece. Surely you can share your little omega whore for the night.”

Erik could not have said later what he had been thinking when he lunged for the man. Nor could he have explained how he’d beaten the man and his companions within an inch of their lives before Raven and another security officer had dragged him away. He couldn’t even understand the scene of broken bodies and chairs before his eyes when they hauled him away.

“Calm down!” Raven hissed in his ear. “Calm down, Erik. They aren’t moving, stop trying to get up.”

Erik blinked and came back to reality, finding himself sitting in a corner, Raven’s hands pushing on his shoulders, and multiple staff standing in a ring behind her, protecting him. No, protecting the patrons of his club – now all scattered to the far corners – from him.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice gruff and strained.

“You happened.” Raven said with a shrug, cautiously dropping her hands from his shoulders. “That alpha, the leader, he threatened the only omega anywhere near our establishment, your omega, and you… we lost you to the alpha.”

Erik stared at Raven in silence. Lost to the alpha. Erik had seen it happen to others before, it was common on the rough streets of London’s slums. Alphas loosing themselves to their baser instincts, fighting over omegas, fighting to protect their omega and their children from other alphas. Erik had never been lost to his instinct, never.

“I have to go.” Erik heard himself say unbidden, his alpha instinct rising once more and directing his movement as he struggled to his feet.

“Erik,” Raven protested, guiding him to the back of the club, “let me clean you up before you go to him. He shouldn’t see you like this.”

Erik fought his primitive instincts and sat for Raven as she cleaned his wounds, washing his face and binding the cuts on his hands. He felt as if he was in a trance, allowing Raven to assist him and his physical body, while his mind, his pulsing aching heart was somewhere else entirely.

As soon as Raven stepped away, Erik was up and moving. He heard her voice ring out behind him, he knew she was likely protesting his departure, but his ears wouldn’t listen. He knew where he had to go and his feet moved with sure purpose in spite of his aching limbs.

He opened the door slowly, as silently as possible and crept his way into the room. The window on the far side of the bed let in a stream of moonlight, giving Erik enough light to see the man lying in the bed.

Young Master Xavier slept curled in a tight ball, and Erik felt the knot of tension that had plagued him for several hours slowly begin to release. With his small form, reduced even more by his position in sleep, there was ample room for Erik to slip into the bed. Removing his boots and jacket, Erik laid down beside his husband, on top of the blankets so as not to disturb his sleep.

Erik let himself close his eyes and took a deep breath, shuddering as the smell of his omega filled his nostrils. Within minutes, he nose full of his omega’s scent, his hand reaching out to touch his fingers gently along his husband’s spine, he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I am hoping to post a chapter every two weeks.
> 
> Please let me know what you think - all comments and kudos are treasured like the jewels they are :)


	3. Chapter 3

Charles woke slowly, his body sunk into the bed and cocooned in the warmth of the covers. He carefully extended his limbs, stretching out, re-familiarizing himself with every inch of his physical being. As he hand drifted down the bed beside him, he felt a surprising warmth and turned to look beside him: the bed was empty, but a clear indentation remained. Someone had slept there in the night.

Charles jerked up to a sitting position in shock. Someone had been in his bed. A deep breath was enough to flood his senses and tell him that his companion had been his husband, his enticing scent clear evidence of his presence. Before Charles could even think of what his husband’s presence in his bed might mean, he heard a gentle knock at the door and Kitty, the young maid he’d met yesterday stepped into the room holding a tray.

“Good morning, sir.” She curtsied. “Mr. Lehnsherr thought you might like to take your breakfast in your room this morning. He’s already left for his daily errands.”

“Have I slept so late?” Charles puzzled; he was generally not one to lie about in bed all morning.

“It isn’t so late, sir. Mr. Lehnsherr is an early riser and a terribly busy man.” Kitty said, placing the breakfast tray on the bed.

Charles ate his breakfast in the silence of his room, carefully picking his way through the eggs and toast. He immediately missed his morning tea, a special blend he’d been drinking every morning for years. He made a note to ask Moira to acquire some when they spoke later this morning. Once he was dressed, Moira lead him through through the townhouse, showing him each well laid out room. Bit by bit, in tiny pieces, he discovered parts of his new life.

His husband seemed to prefer clean lines and simple décor – nothing ostentatious or garish. The staff was comprised mostly of young betas, with a few alphas roaming about, all of whom Moira identified as being part of the security staff. Charles learned that his husband began his day early and yet did not retire until very late in the evening, often conducting business until the wee hours of the morning.

When Moira lead him into a small, but well stocked library, Charles found himself instantly dazzled by the volumes at hand. He ran his fingers along the spines of the books and breathed in the familiar scent of paper and ink.

“Shall I leave you here, Master Xavier?” Moira asked, giving him a soft smile. “Perhaps you would like to explore awhile. I can have Kitty send up some tea and sandwiches for you.”

“Yes, please Moira. That would be most wonderful.” Charles replied. “Oh, that reminds me – I have a preference for a particular blend of tea, do you think you might be able to find it for me? It’s a bit of a morning ritual.” Charles flushed, hoping he wasn’t being too demanding, but Moira’s smile simply broadened.

“Of course, sir. I would be most pleased to assist you.”

Charles gratefully smiled back, found a piece of paper and wrote down the blend.

“I shall send Sean out immediately, sir.” Moira declared.

Within minutes of Moira leaving the room, Charles was lost – his mind completely occupied with the books in front of him, eyes devouring the titles, hands reaching out for every tome that caught his fancy. There were novels and texts, titles in English, German, and French. Charles took a moment to appreciate that he had somehow found himself married to a man who had a library as extensive as the one before him this morning.

Charles had a great many doubts and worries about his marriage, about his life to come. In the sanctuary of this library however, he had no doubts, only pleasure. A book in his lap and tea in his hand; he was content.

* * *

Erik arrived home to find his household running smoothly as ever, as he expected, though the staff he passed seemed happier than usual.

Erik frowned as Moira descended the stairs, greeting him with a full smile.

“Where is my husband?” Erik inquired immediately.

“He is in the library, sir.” Moira replied. “He has been nothing but sweetness and good manners to all today. I should hope you don’t plan to ruin that.”

“And I would hope you would know better than to tell me how to run my affairs.” Erik scowled.

“Young Master Xavier is not an affair, sir. He is your husband, and you’ve never had one of those before. You might do well to take some advice. Do not go in there and frighten that young man, or you’ll have the displeasure of most of the staff to contend with – is that clear?” 

Erik glared at Moira, but she stood firm, head held high.

“I have no intention of frightening him.” Erik grumbled. “And how exactly as he won the loyalty of my staff in so few hours?”

“He is kind, sir. Incredibly so.” Moira replied. “The young maids are particularly fond of him. His smiles are ever so much more pleasing than your scowls. Sir.” Moira answered.

“Hmm.” Erik considered, giving his pocket watch a quick glance. “Has he eaten?”

“Kitty brought him some sandwiches, but that was some time ago. I could send up some tea and biscuits for you both, if you’d like sir.”

Erik nodded briskly. “Thank you, Moira.” He paused and then added. “As you can see, I too have manners.”

“Yes, sir, of course.” Moira agreed. “But then pointing them out rather ruins the effect, don’t you think?”

“I think you should be happy you have a fair employer, a good wage, and a roof over your head.” Erik answered pointedly. “Have Bobby sent to my room immediately.”

Erik took the stairs two at a time and was halfway out of his jacket before his valet arrived to help him. He’d never quite grown accustomed to the idea of another man dressing and undressing him, styling his hair and shaving him, but such were the trappings of the London elite.

Presentable once more, Erik entered the library to find his husband obscured by a mountain of books. He cleared his throat to announce his presence and watched young Xavier startle in his chair.

“I apologize for the intrusion.” He began. “I thought it best we speak about our arrangement.”

Erik sat in a high backed chair across from his husband, a small table cluttered with books and a tea tray between them. His husband gazed at him so directly, eyes wide, brow furrowed as if trying to solve a puzzle.

“Our arrangement.” Charles repeated carefully. “You mean our marriage, sir?”

“I do.” Erik confirmed.

Erik watched as his husband closed the book in his lap, putting it aside; giving Erik his full attention. His eyes were so impossibly blue, Erik found himself wondering how it was that anyone could possibly look away once those eyes held you in their grasp.

The spell of Xavier’s eyes was broken only by a maid entering the room, removing the old tray and replacing it with new one, hot tea steaming and a plate full of biscuits. Erik wrenched his eyes from the deep blue pools across from him, and focused instead on pouring himself a cup of tea.

“You slept with me last night.”

Erik almost spilled his tea in surprise at Xavier’s soft comment.

“Yes.” He answered as delicately as he could. “I… I found myself unable to… that is I needed to… I am afraid my baser instincts took over.” Erik finally finished lamely.

“Am I to expect this to be a regular occurrence?” Xavier asked calmly.

“I would rather focus on the future, rather than the past.” Erik said, hoping to veer around the topic of sleeping arrangements and mating altogether.

Explaining his reticence to mate was something he barely understood himself and he was rather certain he could not explain it to his new husband if he tried. Charles sat back in his seat as the silence between them lengthened and took a sip of his tea. Erik looked down at his hands, wondering what to say next, only to jerk his head up at the sound of his husband’s voice.

“As you are no doubt aware, my last marriage was a failure.” Xavier said, his discomfort only showing in the way his hand clutched his tea cup. “I believe a good portion of that was due to a lack of open and honest communication. I should very much like to avoid another failed marriage, Mr. Lehnsherr. If we can both be honest, today, about what it is we expect from this marriage, I should hope we will both be much happier with our… arrangement.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Erik agreed, pleased at his husband’s pragmatism. “My primary motives for marriage are business related. Your family owed me a debt, and this marriage – your connections to the peerage, the Xavier family estate – will give me certain advantages I have not previously had.”

“I have no personal connections to the peerage, sir. I have been exiled in Cheshire for years.”

“I am aware. But the good name of the Xavier family is still much spoken of here in London. Your father was a very well respected man, an alpha known for his fairness and intelligence. And your estate is one of the oldest in all of England. That in and of itself commands respect from men and women of the peerage who have previously refused to engage in business with me.”

“And what exactly is your business, sir?” Xavier inquired. “Your staff are quire tight lipped when it comes to your business endeavors.”

“I own a gaming club, ‘The Coin and Dagger’. It is the most successful club in London at present. Though it is my primary income in London, I also make investments in business ventures across the country, and have given out private loans to members of the peerage when it suits me.”

“You gave such a loan to the Markos.” Xavier guessed.

“I did.” Erik confirmed. 

“It would seem that was not a good business investment.”

“I have seen a return on my investment, Mr. Xavier. Not all investments yield money. Influence and knowledge are worth having as well and often much harder to come by.”

His husband frowned and looked down at his tea.

“The Xavier estate is entailed to me.” He said hesitantly. “My father’s will made it possible for me to inherit despite my omega status, and I am afraid, even through marriage, the estate remains mine until such time as it can be inherited by another Xavier.”

“It will be inherited by your children.” Erik supplied.

Xavier nodded.

“That is not an issue. I possess other estates. As I said earlier, it is the association, the strong reputation of the Xavier name and estate which benefits me greatly. Most of the peerage will assume I have taken over your estate as a matter of course. It is my understanding you have been running the estate quite well and making a fine profit off your lands. You may continue to run Westchester independently should you chose to do so. If you would like to have my input, to run the estate together, in partnership, I am happy to assist. If the estate begins to lose money, I will have to insist that we work together to rectify the issue.”

“The estate does not make much money, Mr. Lehnsherr. What we make in profit is invested back into the land and the people who work it. But we have never had an issue making ends meet. Not under my father’s management, nor mine.” Xavier paused again for another sip of tea, before ducking his head down. “And my earlier question, Mr. Lehnsherr, I am to expect you in my bed?”

Erik watched his husband’s cheeks blush prettily, suddenly awash with pink. His own hand gripped his cup so hard he had to set it down for fear he might break the delicate china.

“Last night was an aberration. There was an altercation in the club between myself and a group of alphas. It seems the after effects heightened my instinctual response and I sought you out. I apologize.” Erik frowned at the inadequacy of his own words.

“Are we to be mated, then?” Erik frowned more deeply and shifted in his chair. “I am afraid I must have this clarified Mr. Lehnsherr, before we move on.”

“I think it would be best for us to remain unmated at present.” Erik explained. “We need time to come to know each other better. I am not the type of man, the type of alpha, who marries an omega to keep them bound in bed and breeding.” Erik scowled deeply, his gut churning uncomfortably at the very thought of some of the more barbaric mating rituals favoured by some alphas. “Children, an heir, is of importance to me, that I cannot deny. And given the entailment of the Xavier estate, it would seem to be of some importance to you as well. We will be mated – in time. At present I do not plan to share your bed, as we are virtual strangers. We have time, there is no need to rush.”

“I appreciate your candor, Mr. Lehnsherr. Our arrangement, as you call it, would seem acceptable to me.”

“Excellent. I suggest we seal our bargain then.”

Erik extended his hand across the table and waited for his young husband to accept.

* * *

Charles was trying his best to remain calm and composed, but it was difficult to maintain an unaffected air when his husband kept surprising him, over and over again.

Alphas were not known for their patience, understanding, or sensitivity. Yet Mr. Lehnsherr was demonstrating all of these qualities. He was not plotting ways to take over the Xavier estate. He was listening to Charles as if he were an equal. And most startling of all, he was not demanding that Charles and he share a bed, at least not yet. 

When Mr. Lehnsherr had first entered the library Charles had braced himself for the possibility that his husband might have come to claim him right then and there. Lord Stryker had certainly not waited to mate and the only reason he had stopped on their wedding night had been the sight of Charles’ leg. Charles had been splayed out, bound to the bed and in more than a little pain when Lord Stryker had noticed his deformity. His new husband had then spent what felt like hours raging, flinging insult after insult at Charles, before he’d finally fled the room, leaving Charles trapped and aching.

His new marriage could not have been more different.

Charles reached his hand forward and clasped his husband’s hand firmly.

“As we are now married and partners, I invite you to call me Erik.”

Charles could not keep his eyes from growing round with shock. His mother and step-father, though married for a dozen years now, did not embrace the informality of using their given names; certainly not in his presence. That type of familiarity was so far from what he’d expected to find in his own life, he almost did not know how to respond.

“I… I would like that very much, Erik.” Charles managed to stutter out several moments later. “You may of course call me Charles.”

“Charles.” Erik smiled, teeth flashing.

Charles felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound of his name on his husband’s lips. His grip on his tea cup tightened and he took a deep breath before he spoke again.

“May I see your club? It is nearby?” Charles asked, overcome with curiosity to know more about his husband and his profession.

“You’d like to see the club?” His husband repeated, clearly surprised by his request.

“I would like to better understand your business. I’m afraid, tucked away in the country as I was, I am not familiar with gaming hells.” Charles could feel his face flushing at his admission but he refused to lower his gaze, keeping his eyes fixed on his husband’s stony face.

Perhaps, if Charles better understood his husband’s business affairs, he could find some way to be useful to him.

Erik stood abruptly.

“Come along.”

Erik was halfway to the door before Charles scrambled to his feet to follow him. His husband’s strides were long and confident, Charles winced at the pain he felt in his hip as he tried his best to keep up with the taller man. He hoped he would not have to keep this up for long, else he was likely to stagger and fall, no doubt assuring himself a place of permanent disdain in the eyes of his husband.

Luckily the club was closer than Charles could ever have expected. Erik lead him to the end of a hallway, pushed open a concealed door and walked him down a narrow passageway which quickly opened up to a large, open room with towering ceilings.

“This is the club.” Erik said gruffly, his eyes focused on Charles’ face.

Charles turned slowly, eyes wide as he took in the grandeur of the space. It was decorated with rich, sensuous colours; reds and purples, with accents of gold and dark wood. There were tables for cards and dice, a stage in the far corner, and an imposing bar along the far wall backed by a shelf that contained more spirits than Charles had ever laid eyes on in his life. The floor was a smooth dark wood, laid in an intricate pattern that seemed to weave and dance the longer you looked at it, and the chandelier hanging in the middle of the room glittered, gold and crystal shining with an opulence generally reserved for palaces.

“This is… it is… I have never seen anything like it.” Charles said, unable to express the depth of his astonishment.

“We pride ourselves on offering an experience to our members that cannot be found elsewhere.”

“How many members do you cater to?” Charles asked, watching several members of the staff milling about, clearly preparing the club for the evenings activities.

“Nightly, we have hundreds of guests. The official membership list goes into the thousands. If a man in London has money to spend, he is welcome here.” Erik explained.

“You have designed a space that would appeal greatly to men like my step father; men who enjoy the trappings of wealth and status.” Charles commented.

“It is men with status and wealth that are most profitable for the club.”

“Until they are not.” Charles frowned. “My step father was unaware of your interest in me as a means to repay his debts, I assume?” 

“He was not aware.” 

“It was my understanding he had made plans for me to marry a Mr. Shaw. I have no personal knowledge of Mr. Shaw, who he is or how my step father is connected to him, but I can say with certainty my step father will not be pleased that you have ruined his plans.”

“Both your step father and brother had amassed a considerable debt with me; your step brother at the card tables and your step father through a loan of money which he invested in an ill-advised scheme. It would seem they had similar debts to pay to Mr. Shaw. I believe, in the end, I offered the better bargain.”

His husband appeared unaffected by concerns over Lord Marko, but Charles could not say he felt the same. From all he had seen of his husband so far, he was a man of the mind, a man who held himself above his emotions and fought against them. Lord Marko was not such a level-headed man.

“I am not certain Lord Marko will see it that way. He is a very volatile man, particularly when he has been made to feel the fool. You should expect him – he will confront you.” Charles cautioned.

“Your warning is noted.” Erik nodded. “I cannot claim to have better knowledge of the man than you – I will alert my staff.”

Charles looked up at his husband, once again surprised; his husband had listened to him. It made him wonder if those romantic tales from his childhood, stories of how the pairing of an alpha and omega could be a thing of beauty and power, each partner supporting the other, could possibly be true. Charles had lost so many things to his first marriage and a belief in the possibility of love, affection and trust in a marriage, in an alpha, had been one of the first things he had abandoned after Lord Stryker’s bitter betrayal.

“My staff is well prepared and well trained, Charles, you needn’t worry for them. And they are familiar with Lord Marko – both the Markos – from their previous visits here. It will be a simple thing to keep a watchful eye out in case they should be so bold as to come to the club.” 

Charles found himself caught by his husband’s cool blue-grey eyes; full of such steely self assurance. Perhaps, over time, Charles could learn how to be so confident, so sure of himself. For now, he would do his best to trust in Erik and his staff.

“Thank you.” Charles said with sincerity. “It eases my mind to know your staff will not be caught unawares.”

Unconsciously Charles rubbed his thigh, he dropped his hand quickly when he saw Erik watching him, eyes narrowed. So many wounds, both Kurt and Cain had inflicted so very many wounds over the years, Charles could only hope his presence in Erik’s life would not endanger anyone else. He could never live with himself if it did.

“Your leg is causing you pain?” Erik inquired, brow furrowed.

“An old injury, nothing more.” Charles forced himself to smile. “A short rest before dinner is all I require.”

“I will have the staff draw you a bath. A hot soak may ease your discomfort.” Erik turned and offered Charles his arm, waiting patiently and without comment when Charles hesitated.

Gingerly placing his hand on his husbands arm, Charles began the walk back to his room, but at a much slower pace then they had entered the club. Halfway up the stairs to his room, Charles felt a flash of white hot pain and his leg nearly buckled. Erik reacted with a speed Charles would not have believed had he not been there to experience it, wrapping his arm around Charles’ waist and hauling him upward. Charles gripped Erik’s shirt, head down, staring at his feet, embarrassed to look up.

But he could not stay so close either. Not with the way his husband’s scent filled his senses and made his heart pound. Charles carefully pushed himself back until he was upright, standing securely on his own two feet. Erik’s strong arm remained around his waist as he steadied himself.

“Can you go on?” Erik asked.

“Yes. My apologies – my leg can be unpredictable at times.” Charles answered, looking up at the last few stairs he had to climb, knowing he could accomplish the task in front of him, though it would cause him great pain.

Charles took the next step, and the next, gritting his teeth against the pain and the growing stiffness in his leg. Supported partly by Erik, he made his way to his room, slipping down into arm chair by the fire with considerable relief.

“I will call for the bath at once. You should dine in your room tonight – it will do you no good to put unneeded strain on your leg.” Erik instructed.

Charles did not have the energy to protest, and if he was honest, he did not relish having to take the stairs down to the dining room for dinner either.

“With your permission, I will contact Dr. McCoy once more. Perhaps there is something he could do for your leg, a brace or -”

“There is nothing he can do.” Charles sighed. “I have tried a great many things over the years. My leg is as it is. I have not been walking enough. A lack of use makes things worse – I must rebuild my strength again.”

Erik frowned as Charles spoke, but nodded when Charles finished.

“Then we will begin tomorrow. A walk in Hyde Park will afford you some exercise and fresh air.” Erik declared.

Charles found himself smiling bemusedly. What a caretaker his husband was. So different than the Markos.

“A walk will be lovely.” He agreed.

“I will be back in the morning, ten o’clock. For now, rest.” Erik ordered and then, he was gone.

Charles drifted that night, in a haze of pain and fatigue. He bathed, soaking far too long in the deep, luxurious tub. He ate in bed, though he was far too tired to finish much of the decadent food that had been sent up. When Kitty arrived to take his tray, he felt half asleep, though he made sure to give her a smile and his sincere thanks for the food.

He lay down in his bed, eyes fluttering closed almost instantly. He only had time to wish Erik was in bed, a warm secure weight beside him, before he fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading!
> 
> I am happy to report that I am still staying ahead (not quite a far as I'd like, but still ahead). I will keep to my posting every two weeks schedule at this point.
> 
> Please share your thoughts with me - all comments and kudos are treasured.


	4. Chapter 4

Erik had barely slept. He’d spent most of his night tossing and turning, wishing for sleep but unable to find it, always moments away from drifting off, only to be awoken by the sense that something was missing. 

Regardless of a less than restful night, Erik had been up at his typical time, 8 o’clock, drinking hot, black coffee as he read the morning’s paper. Despite his attempt to read, but the words swam in front of his eyes. The alpha part of his brain remained on high alert, attuned to every creak of the floor, to the sound of doors opening, his eyes always peeking up over the paper to see if his husband had come down for breakfast.

When Charles arrived, Erik almost didn’t notice, the man was so silent, passing into the room with hardly a sound. But he did notice; the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, a current of air bringing his husband’s subtle scent to his nose and Erik was immediately fixed on him.

“Good morning.” Charles said once he had filled a plate for himself and sat down at the table.

“You’re up earlier than I would have expected.” Erik commented.

Charles paused, looking at Erik openly and frankly for a minute before answering. 

“I’m not one for keeping the hours of the London ton. Life in Westchester seldom allowed for late mornings.” Charles took a bite of egg before he continued. “You did not sleep well.”

Erik frowned. It was unpleasant to think his husband had made such an astute observation after so short an acquaintance. 

“You are a very observant man.”

“I have found it to be beneficial.” Charles replied, stopping abruptly and turning his attention back to his food.

Erik found that he did not like to imagine why Charles had become such an observant man, though he had his suspicions. 

“The skies are relatively clear this morning.” He said, avoiding any further conversation that would bring up Charles’ past, or his own.

“I’ve never been to this park, is it quite large?” Charles asked.

Their conversation flowed easily for the next few minutes as Erik described Hyde Park. Charles had little knowledge of London and as they entered Erik’s carriage for the ride to the park, Erik found himself describing other London attractions: Vauxhall Gardens, the King’s Theatre, and Astley’s circus.

The walk through Hyde Park began mostly in silence, aside from a pair of young men on horseback who rushed by them as they alighted from the carriage. Charles took in the grand entrance, and they made their way into the park, ambling along the Serpentine, the clatter of carriages and other city noises slowly fading away.

“I could never have possibly imagined such a place in the city.” Charles said after several minutes. “It feels almost as if we were two people walking in the countryside.”

“If it were summer we’d be competing for space with hoards of young ladies. The winter weather and the early hour have given us a semblance of privacy.”

“Do you often walk here? Does your schedule permit such pleasures?” Charles asked, a small smile forming.

“I am not a man of leisure.” Erik conceded.

“Terrified of the hoards of young ladies?” Charles teased with a grin, before almost immediately ducking his head down, his cheeks flushing.

Erik found himself at a loss for words. He was so seldom teased by anyone, the gentlemen of the ton would not dare say anything that might be misconstrued as an insult – they were far too afraid of his power and influence. His young husband had the gall, however. He also looked ridiculously perfect while doing so, his striking smile hitting Erik right in the gut.

Indeed, Erik seldom spent time in Hyde Park – it was often an arena for the London ton, pretty ladies strolling about hoping to be noticed by well heeled gentlemen. He didn’t appreciate the artifice of it all. But today, walking, even in silence as they were now, Erik saw the place with new eyes, through Charles’ eyes. 

Charles, who smiled softly at the geese in the lake. Charles who exclaimed happily as he identified each type of tree, or shrub. Charles who was now walking with barely a limp, his stride lengthening and becoming more confident as they walked, as if his body was remembering the pleasure of exertion.

Erik couldn’t help but be mystified by his husband’s character. He was so… innocent, so genuinely delighted by the sights around him, every emotion flashing across his expressive face. Erik wanted to pocket every smile and keep it to take out and look at whenever he wanted. He wanted to bottle the little surprised laugh Charles let out when a goose made a valiant effort to steal the crusts of bread Charles had brought to throw to the birds. 

He was unlike any English peer Erik had ever met. Oh, he could be the typical reserved Englishman, but underneath, in those moments when Charles let his true self shine through, he was something else entirely. He was fast becoming the most intriguing man Erik had ever met.

Erik was so caught up in watching his husband and tucking away each and every moment into a special corner of his mind that was now dedicated to one Charles Xavier, that he failed to hear the horses coming until it was almost too late.

The thundering of hooves finally broke through Erik’s entrancement and he looked up just in time to take in the two approaching riders, the young men who had passed them earlier in the morning, now apparently racing each other through the park. Erik managed to push Charles firmly off the path, saving him from being trampled, and dive in the opposite direction to protect himself.

Picking himself up off the ground, he stared at the retreating backs of the men on horseback who had nearly run them over. They were apparently completely unaware they had been about to kill two men during the course of their race. Erik could hear the men whooping and hollering with good cheer – the type of oblivious self-involvement so typical of young members of the ton.

Erik fumed, and another day he might have raced after the men, but today he merely let out a string of curses and then strode across the path in search of his husband. He found him quickly, knee deep in water, having somehow ended up in Serpentine.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Erik asked, reaching a hand out and hauling Charles out of the water.

“I’m fine. Fine.” Charles answered breathlessly.

Erik watched as Charles leaned over, hands on his knees, noting the mud on his boots and the wetness of his clothing. He also noticed that Charles was shaking. It wasn’t until Erik heard an odd snort-like sound that he realized Charles’ body was shuddering with contained laughter, not pain.

“You find this amusing?”

Charles straightened himself up, his face alight with giddiness as he let out a bark of laughter. “I find it amusing that I should be almost trampled to death in a tranquil park, not one of the many busy streets of London that I find so terrifyingly overrun with horses, carriages and people.”

“You are a strange man Charles Xavier.” Erik commented, causing Charles to cease laughing and look directly up at him. “You are well? Uninjured?”

“I believe my clothing was the only victim of this incident.” Charles replied.

Charles stood and Erik gave his attire a thorough examination, spotting a hole in the knee of Charles’ breeches, a rip in his jacket and mud covering much of his boots.

“My staff are quite adept at removing stains and repairing small tears, but this outfit may be beyond their abilities.” Erik concluded.

“That is… unfortunate.” Charles frowned, walking beside Erik, his limp more pronounced than it had been before. 

As they walked toward the exit of the park, Erik could hear the squelch of water in Charles’ boots with every step he took. Not that Charles gave any indication he was in discomfort, he walked steadily and without protest for several minutes before Erik finally broke the silence.

“You seem to have taken a great deal of the Serpentine with you in your boots.” Erik remarked drily.

“Yes.” Charles nodded glumly. “I’m afraid they’re quite old. I’ve had them repaired several times, but apparently they are no match for being submerged in a body of water.”

“It would seem that you require a new pair.” Erik declared as his carriage came into view. “Would you be amenable to one more stop?”

“Yes, of course.” Charles answered, brow furrowed. “Though it would be best for me to find some other attire before setting foot in public I should think.”

“I believe my stop will be the perfect solution to your predicament.” Erik answered confidently.

He found himself holding back a smile as he assisted Charles up into the carriage. Given what Moira and Raven had told him about Charles and his interactions with his husband so far, he suspected that it had been some time since Charles had had anyone to care for him. A deep sense of satisfaction settled in Erik’s gut, because he would be the one to care for his husband, today and every day for the rest of their lives.

* * *

“You are absolutely certain it was him?”

“Yes, yes am I. I saw them both, walking together.” Cain insisted.

In truth, Cain had been at the club, beyond thankful it was possible to get a stiff drink with his luncheon, when two young gentlemen had barged into the room and told a wild tale of their horse race through the Park. Apparently they had almost run over two men and they were almost certain one of the men was the owner of ‘The Coin and Dagger’ and that he had been walking with a blue eyed omega man. An omega the men had described as ‘having a mouth made for sucking cock’. Cain had known immediately he had to bring the information to his father. That he had not seen Lehnsherr and Charlie himself was irrelevant, and certainly not something he wished his father to discover.

“Well, then it is possible that you haven’t completely ruined us.” Lord Marko replied. “To be clear – you are not forgiven. You have betrayed me, and this family. You will be making amends for some time.”

“Lehnsherr offered more than Shaw! I got us more for Charlie!” Cain protested.

“More? Shaw wanted Charlie for two years! Two years! Then we would have been able to sell him to someone else! Lehnsherr has married the little freak – we’ll never get another penny out of him now!” Marko raged. “You boy, you have no vision! I am the head of this household and you will listen to me – to me.” Cain watched his father pace the length of the room. “Later this week you will assist me to resolve this issue. Understood?”

“Understood.”

* * *

Moira bit her cheek to contain amused laughter as she watched Charles fiddle with his tea cup and worry his lip between his teeth.

“You needn’t be so worried, my Lord.” Moira said gently.

“How can I not be worried? He must have spent a fortune on me – me! All because I am hopelessly clumsy and ruined my clothes and he didn’t want to be embarrassed standing beside a man with no clothes befitting a gentleman -”

“Nothing embarrasses Mr. Lehnsherr, my Lord. Nothing.” 

“I believe I’ve told you to call me Charles. I am not a Lord.” Charles set down his tea cup with a sigh. “Nothing, Moira? Nothing at all embarrasses the man? You are certain?”

“Nothing.” Moira confirmed. “One day we had workers in repainting the dining room and one of them, somehow, only god knows how, dumped a can of paint on Mr. Lehnsherr. He had someone coming for a business meeting – in fact they arrived the very moment after the accident happened. Mr. Lehnsherr simply wiped off his face and went to the meeting as if nothing was out of sorts at all.”

“Impressive.” Charles picked up his tea again and took a sip, his eyes fixed on the floor. “I was a disappointment to my first husband Moira, in every way. I shouldn’t like to disappoint Mr. Lehnsherr.”

“I am not familiar with your first husband, but I cannot imagine how you could be a disappointment, Master Xavier. You have the support of myself and all of the staff -”

“It is the favour of my husband I wish to obtain, Moira. I am of course grateful for your support and that of the staff, but it is a successful marriage I must cultivate. If I could somehow make myself indispensable to him...” Charles trailed off, gazing out the window blankly.

Moira sighed and sipped her own tea. How such a lovely young man had come to have so little confidence in himself was tragic and surely beyond her understanding. Mr. Lehnsherr had left him home alone this afternoon and gone out for business and young Master Xavier had spent hours looking over the household accounts and going over the menu plans for the week. He’d only been convinced to take a moment to rest and have some tea after Moira had said she was feeling a bit tired and that Sean had procured Charles’ special blend. Charles had fussed over her comfort and insisted on sitting down and assuring himself she was well. A more selfless young man she had never met.

Clearly all this lovely young man wanted was the love and acceptance of his husband. Unfortunately his husband was Mr. Lehnsherr, and Mr. Lehnsherr was not one for overt displays of affection.

Moira had watched young master Xavier with Mr. Lehnsherr earlier that day and could see he was putting on a brave face, acting as if he was confident and unaffected. Here, behind closed doors with only Moira to see, his worries had free rein.

Thankfully, Moira was one of the best housekeepers in all of London and she prided herself on knowing everything possible about her employer.

“Do you happen to play chess?” She asked.

* * *

Erik watched his husband from across the board as he licked his bottom lip, brow furrowed, clearly thinking deeply about his next move. Erik, his gaze drawn again and again to Charles’ lips, did his best to control his wildly beating heart. It was practically impossible. His husband had proven himself to be perfection incarnate: he had the deepest blue eyes, the most enticing scent, a quiet strength hidden under his soft exterior, and now, Erik had discovered he could play chess. He could play chess so well in fact, that he’d won their first match and Erik hadn’t lost a chess match to anyone in years. It should have been upsetting, or at the very least aggravating, yet Erik felt neither of those things, instead he was struggling to restrain his arousal.

“Where did you learn the game?” He asked, hoping to distract himself from his lustful thoughts.

“My father taught me when I was a child.” Charles replied absently, his eye still fixed on the board.

“You must have been very young.” Erik noted, recalling from his information about the Xavier family, that Lord Xavier had died over ten years ago when Charles would have only been a boy.

Charles reached forward and moved his bishop before sitting back and responding. “I was. My father believed chess was key to a young gentleman’s education. Did your father teach you as well?”

“No, he did not.” Erik replied, quickly moving his knight. “Check.”

Erik had in fact taught himself to play chess after a prospective business investor had been disgusted with his inability to play years ago. The man’s rejection had been the fuel Erik had used to drive himself to work harder, securing investors in his club and learning to play chess in the early morning hours before the respectable gentlemen of London were even awake.

Although he’d learned the game out of spite, Erik had found he very much enjoyed the intricacies of chess. He particularly appreciated how much a game of chess could show him about his opponent; his strengths, his weaknesses, his intelligence, his patience. Today, Erik never conducted business without challenging his potential business partner to a game. Charles was a better player than all of London’s elite, or at least those of Erik’s acquaintance. 

“Your father was an excellent teacher.” Erik remarked, examining the board again now that Charles had moved his piece to avoid the check.

“Whoever instructed you was clearly an original thinker.” Charles said, arching a brow. “I don’t recognize any of your strategies.”

“I’ll be sure to pass along your compliment.” Erik replied drily. “Check mate.”

Charles studied the board for a moment and then let his king fall. “It would appear we need another game to decide a winner. Unless you’d rather call it a draw?”

Erik stared. He couldn’t help himself; Charles was grinning impishly at him and Erik had to tense every muscle in his body to stop from launching himself across the table and kissing the smug, teasing look off his face.

What was happening to him? How had this man walked into his life and turned his world upside down in a matter of days? It was as if the world had tilted on its axis and Erik couldn’t find his balance. He wanted to throw himself at Charles, almost as strongly as he wanted to run in the opposite direction and bury himself in work at the club, desperate to forget he even had a husband.

Refusing to let himself be cowed by a pretty young omega, even one who was his husband, Erik smirked and spoke confidently.

“I am not a man who refuses a challenge.”

* * *

Charles felt light as a feather, like he was floating over his chair, weightless and wonderfully happy. He and Erik had been sitting together for several hours now, engaged in a battle of wits over the chessboard. One match had lead to two, two to three, all the way to their current match, number five. Charles hadn’t had such a challenging opponent in years, if ever. And his husband was smiling. Smiling.

If Charles had thought his husband was a handsome man before tonight, it was nothing compared to seeing his face soften with the small smiles that kept creeping onto his face as they played chess. Or the boyishness that spread across his face when he smirked, clearly enjoying the competition as much as Charles himself.

Tonight, sitting opposite Erik, playing chess, Charles had been able to relax. Once he had let go of some his his anxiety, he’d made Erik smile and they’d talked, about chess, about their walk earlier in the day, about books. 

Charles had even had the courage to tell Erik that he’d looked over the household accounts and was certain that with a few minor adjustments to delivery dates and making use of the small back garden, he could save them a good amount of money by reducing food waste and planting their own herbs and some vegetables. For a moment Charles had thought Erik was going to be angry, he’d frowned and sat in silence for so long Charles had almost spoken up and taken all his words back, but finally Erik had broken the silence and given his approval for all Charles’ plans. Charles had felt both revealed and giddy; this was his first step toward making himself useful to his husband.

Somehow, over the last few hours, they had shifted closer together. Charles had pulled his chair as close to the board as he could, sitting crossed legged with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, contemplating his next move. Erik was leaning back in his chair and Charles could feel his cool grey eyes on him. 

Erik had barely looked away from him these past few hours. At first Charles had found the attention intimidating; he was hardly used to such scrutiny. As they played and Erik smiled and Charles had relaxed, Charles began to believe that Erik’s gaze was not the harsh judgmental look of his step father, nor dismissive disinterest of his mother, it was something different; it was considered and attentive.

Now Charles could feel a heat in his belly, a strange rush of anticipation that crept up his spine whenever he locked eyes with Erik over the board. His palms were sweating and his heart pounded. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from straying back to Erik’s face; the firm line of his jaw, the slash of his cheekbones, the pink of his lips. Charles might have been embarrassed, except Erik was returning his regard with lingering looks of his own.

By the time Charles made his last move of the game, taking Erik’s queen and causing Erik to concede, the air in the room was thick with...something. Something dark; full of tension and scent.

When Erik reached across the table and took his hand, Charles shivered.

“You have ink, just here.” Erik spoke softly, rubbing his thumb along the side of Charles’ hand. “It has been distracting me all evening.”

“I was making notes, I must have smudged the ink...” Charles’ voice trailed off as Erik’s turbulent eyes met his.

Erik kept touching, dropping his gaze back down, his fingers running along Charles’ fingers. 

“You write often.” Erik commented, his thumb skimming over the calluses that had built up over years of Charles taking studious notes.

“I do.” Charles got out, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes fixed on the top of his husband’s head.

“Such an intelligent man.” Erik murmured so softly Charles barely heard him, but he did and he trembled in response.

Erik rumbled, there was no other word for the sound that came out of him, holding Charles’ hand firmly, lifting it up to his lips and kissing the inside of his wrist with a gentleness that stole Charles’ breath away.

Before Charles could even think, Erik stood and moved away from him. Charles fought his desire to follow him, his omega instincts wanting to be near his alpha so strongly Charles had to grip the arms of his chair to hold himself still.

“I have to get to the club.” Erik declared stiffly, his eyes on the clock on the mantle. “Raven will be expecting me.”

Charles could only nod, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, trying desperately to keep his expression calm.

Erik walked to the door, his steps determined and swift. Charles kept his eyes straight ahead. He couldn’t watch Erik leave, he knew, somehow, that if he looked at him one more time he would bolt out of his chair and fling himself into his husbands arms. Only moments ago he might have thought Erik would accept such an action, but now, with Erik’s decisive departure, he was left adrift and unsure.

Charles was so wrapped up in his own turmoil, the sound of Erik’s voice, gruff and low, startled him.

“I have not had such an enjoyable evening in a great many years. Will you play with me again, Charles?”

Charles bit his lip to keep from whimpering in relief and took moment to breathe deeply before answering.

“Of course, I could never resist such an offer. I doubt I will ever find such an inventive opponent elsewhere.”

“Until tomorrow then.”

Charles heard the door shut and he sat and stared, unseeing, thoughts swirling. Could this be the start of a good marriage? A solid foundation to a life lived together? Was it possible to succeed at something he had long ago thought impossible?

* * *

Erik walked to the club with half his mind on Raven and her upcoming report on the night, and half on his husband’s enchanting blue eyes and plump lips. Standing outside the door to his typical perch above the club, Erik shook his head, hoping the motion would clear it and help him to focus on the task at hand.

“You’re late.” Raven said immediately as he took his place next to her.

“Report.” Erik instructed, refusing to rise to her bait.

“The club itself is calm tonight. The tables are doing well. No one is causing trouble, though the Summers’ brothers did report seeing someone walking around the club and the townhouse several times. Whoever it was made no attempt to enter.”

“Could they identify him?” Erik asked.

“No.”

“Could they describe him?”

“He was wearing a long dark coat, likely black. Tall, bulky build.”

Erik frowned. The description gave them little to go on. It could have been one of the Markos, or one of Shaw’s cronies. There was even a slim possibility it had been some random Londoner lost and wandering, though nothing in Erik’s gut believed that to be true.

“Have security check the exterior of the club and the townhouse every fifteen minutes.” Erik instructed.

“Of course.” Raven nodded.

“Double security until I say otherwise.” Erik faced Raven directly. “And begin extra training for all security staff immediately. Include the footmen at the house and any other domestic staff that care to join. I want the house as well protected as the club.”

Raven grinned. “It will be my pleasure.”

Erik turned his attention to the club below, watching his staff and the patrons milling about, drinking and gaming, unaware of any potential threat. Raven’s report did not sit well with him. His husband had been so sure Lord Marko would be furious, aggressive in his pursuit of some sort of ‘justice’ for his perceived loss. Despite their short acquaintance, Erik trusted his husband: he trusted his intelligence, his keen observational skills, and his knowledge of his own family. It seemed unlikely that the man observed tonight was not connected to Marko, or Shaw, in some regard.

Erik knew what he had to do. It was an unenviable task, but one he could not put off any longer. It was time to face Sebastian Shaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented and kudo'd this fic - your support has been amazing!
> 
> I am almost sure I can keep to the two week posting schedule, but I am slowly beginning a return to work plan and it is possible my writing pace will slow as my daily structure changes. Please bare with me! I promise this fic is a priority for me and I will keep writing :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'm updating early!! I am very happy about this, but I can't say it will be a regular occurrence. 
> 
> Please continue to expect two weeks between updates unless I have another unexpectedly productive writing week.

“Mr. Shaw will see you now.”

Erik stood up from his seat by the window and followed the servant into an ornately decorated office. He hadn’t wanted to come here today – he would much rather have spent another day with his husband, watching him smile and playing chess, but Erik was not a man who put off unpleasant encounters. It was time he and Shaw sat face to face.

As he sat down, Erik cleared his face of all expression and steeled himself for what would no doubt be one of many practically intolerable conversations he had had with Sebastian Shaw over the years. 

“Erik Lehnsherr.” Shaw grinned at him from behind a huge oak desk. “What has brought you to my doorstep this morning, boy?”

Erik maintained a bored expression as he responded: “You know exactly why I am here.”

“Ah, yes. How is your little omega? Does he please you, or are you satisfied from thwarting me alone?” Shaw sneered.

“The satisfaction of undermining a rival is considerable.” 

“As I suspected – you’ve no interest in the man at all. A pity – he would have made an excellent addition to my club. Delicate little omegas have such an appeal, particularly to those who enjoy watching them break.”

“If you are looking for an apology, you shall remain disappointed.” Erik replied, tone detached.

“I’m not sure I believe you know how to apologize.” Shaw smirked. “Which brings me to the question of the hour: why are you here? You will not apologize for your underhandedness, you are certainly not going to offer me compensation for your actions, and we both know you are not here for the pleasure of my company. So, what brings you here, my boy?”

“I want your assurance you will not retaliate against me or my husband for any perceived wrongs. It will be much easier for my security team – fear of you makes them nervous.” Erik shrugged casually.

Shaw cackled with delight. “Does it now! How wonderful.” He clapped his hands together with a smile and leaned back in his chair, staring at Erik intently for several moments before continuing. “I have no plans to attack you, your club, or your husband. Already I have moved on – the money I saved from my deal with the Markos has been put to use buying several young omegas to bolster the ranks of my brothel. A young nobleman would have attracted the money of high paying clients that much is true, but a man such as myself can cater to the tastes of the peerage with or without such novelty.”

“Then our rivalry will continue as it always has.” Erik remarked.

“Indeed.” Shaw motioned for a servant to enter and immediately began drinking a steaming cup of coffee, never once offering anything to his guest. “Will you be at the match next week?”

Erik struggled to maintain an unaffected air, feeling himself frown slightly at Shaw’s question. Shaw was well known for running his gambling club, the attached brothel, and the bloodiest bareknuckle fighting ring in the city. His fighters, mostly alphas, almost always pumped full of a heady mix of herbs and drugs concocted by Shaw’s personal doctor to heighten their baser alpha instincts, fought viciously. More often than Erik cared to think about, news of the death of one of Shaw’s fighters reached his ears through his network of spies. The fighters were as likely to die out of the ring, sick from lack of proper medical care or suffering from the drugs Shaw pumped into them, as in the ring from a deadly punch.

Shaw knew Erik had no interest in the fights. He knew better than most. That was how they had met, all those years ago. Erik, half starved, Shaw looking for fresh meat for the ring. When Erik had escaped from Shaw’s clutches, battered and half delirious from the drugs, he had vowed to do whatever it took to put an end to Shaw and his business. 

“Thank you, no.” Erik ground out.

“Busy, are you?” Shaw smirked knowingly.

“My business is ever expanding.” Erik replied. “I will see myself out.”

Erik stood, turning for the door, beyond glad to have finished his discussion with Shaw. Just as he entered the hall, he heard Shaw call from behind him.

“Do pass my congratulations on your recent wedding on to your husband. I’m sure he is very grateful for the comfort and security of your home.”

Erik felt a chill run down his spine at Shaw’s words. His earlier declaration had been a lie – despite the claim of indifference, Shaw had not forgotten Charles. Erik turned carefully, inclining his head as if he accepted Shaw’s words as a thoughtful gesture and nothing more.

“I will most assuredly pass on your wishes.” Erik agreed. “And I wish you great success with your upcoming bout. Rumour has it some of your fighters have gone missing recently, but surely that will not occur on this occasion.”

Erik grinned his widest, toothiest smile as an angry cloud crept over Shaw’s face, and then turned and strolled out the door.

* * *

“Have you never worked in a garden before?” Charles inquired, smiling broadly over at the young footman across from him.

“I can’t as I have, sir. Though you aren’t much better - you’ve dirt on your face!” Sean laughed and Charles joined in freely.

It was true, they were both covered in dirt, sweat, and muck. Having spent the morning hauling out old pieces of pottery and pulling dead plants, they were now shovelling fresh soil into garden beds and pots. Sean had been a very pleasant working companion, quick with jokes, energetic, and willing to follow Charles’ directions even though the tasks were foreign to him.

Charles felt the ache in his arms almost as much as he felt the pain in his hip. It had been quite some time since he had engaged in such strenuous physical exertion. It was satisfyingly tiring. To see such progress to the small side courtyard near the kitchens, to know they would soon be growing their own herbs and other edible plants gave Charles a sense of achievement.

Charles sat down on one of the large empty pots that he and Sean had turned over to used as a seat for breaks. He took a long, deep drink of cool water, offering a cup to Sean immediately after.

“I imagine we must look a fright.” Charles admitted, standing up and giving the front of his shirt a few futile wipes.

“I don’t know how you got so much muck on your neck, sir.” Sean laughed.

“Goodness!” Charles exclaimed, wiping at the back of his neck and vainly trying to get an idea of how badly he’d ruined his clothes. “How bad is it? Can you tell me?” Charles turned, showing Sean his back.

Charles could hear Sean chuckling at the sight of his back and he groaned. “It’s horrible, isn’t it.”

“Somehow, there’s dirt halfway down your back.” Sean said and Charles could hear the humour in his voice. “Let me see if any of it will come off.”

Charles felt Sean give his back a few hard slaps and swipes and hoped it was working. He didn’t want to track dirt all through the house and cause extra work for Moira and the maids. He stood still as Sean thumped his back a few times, apparently trying to beat the dirt off, and then suddenly something changed; the air felt charged, the hairs on the back of Charles’ neck stood up, and Sean stopped his slaps. Though he couldn’t see him, Charles felt sure Sean was standing stock still.

Having never experienced such an odd sense of heightened awareness, tension and danger in all his life, Charles twisted slowly; his eyes first landing on Sean, who was frozen in place his eyes round and full of fear, and then on his husband who stood in the doorway to the courtyard, body coiled as if ready to strike at any moment.

Strangely, the sight caused every bone in Charles’ body to relax. 

“Erik.” He said happily. “You’ve come home. I hope your business errands went well today.” Charles smiled, stepping forward and inserting himself between Sean and his husband.

Erik’s eyes locked on him as he moved, finally releasing Sean from a rather terrifying glare.

“You seem to have been equally busy.” Erik said gruffly.

Charles smiled again. “Indeed we have.” He replied excitedly. “Still, we have quite a bit more to do. Shall we meet here again tomorrow morning, Sean?” Charles asked, turning to his working companion who nodded vigorously, though he still appeared quite pale. “Excellent.”

“You must be hungry.” Erik said, bringing Charles’ gaze back to his husband.

“I am in no fit state for anything at the moment, I’m afraid.” Charles chuckled, looking down at himself.

“Join me in the dining room after a bath?” Erik inquired and Charles nodded his head in agreement. “And another round of chess in the library?”

“I cannot think of anything I would enjoy more.”

Charles maintained a languid feeling of contentment as his husband bowed slightly and left the courtyard. His belly felt warm and his skin prickled in a delightful manner. How very nice it was to have such a husband. A decent man.

Charles sighed, before turning to Sean to declare: “You look rather pale. I must have worked you too hard. I do apologize. I insist you take the rest of the afternoon off. Is that clear?”

Sean nodded again, his eyebrows arched up with surprise, but Charles felt satisfied. The poor boy had certainly taken a turn for the worst in the last few minutes, the strain of the day’s work obviously having caught up with him.

Charles removed his mucky boots just outside the door and walked up to his room in his bare feet. When he was finally ensconced in the privacy of his room, Charles found himself staring dreamily out the window. Another night of chess with his husband. How wonderful.

* * *

“They do know they’re married?” Sean asked, looking around the weathered kitchen table.

“They have to know.” Scott Summers replied. “Mr. Lehnsherr always calls Master Xavier his husband. Though why he doesn’t touch the man, I’ll never understand.” 

“Mr. Lehnsherr looked like he was going to cut my head off just because I was wiping some dirt off Master Xavier’s back! I wasn’t getting handsy – honest to god. I can’t be working for a boss who wants to murder me!” Sean exclaimed.

“Young Master Xavier is so clearly fond of Mr. Lehnsherr,” Kitty, the youngest maid chimed in. “Surely we could give them a little push together? For their own benefit?”

“The boss feels the same.” Raven said, barely lifting her head, her attention still focused on sharpening her her boot dagger. “You weren’t in the club when he lost it. The man has practically bonded with his little omega already, not that he’d admit it.”

“Mr. Lehnsherr hasn’t slept in his own bed since that night.” All eyes turned immediately to Bobby, Mr. Lehnsherr’s valet.

“He certainly does not sleep with Master Xavier!” Kitty exclaimed.

“Well he doesn’t sleep in his bed either. It is completely untouched every morning.” Bobby declared, his head held high. “I think… I may be mistaken, but I am almost certain that he sleeps on the floor by the connecting door to Master Xavier’s room.” Bobby ended, his voice low and cheeks flushed.

“You see, they are so clearly in love! But are such fools they cannot see it for themselves!” Kitty said. “How can we possibly let them continue being so miserable! If we could just -”

“No.” Moira’s voice sounded clear and authoritative from the doorway. She had overheard more than enough and it was time for her, as head of the household to nip the gossip in the bud.

“The answer is no. We are here to serve, not to meddle in the lives of our employer. If Mr. Lehnsherr ever heard a whiff of such conversation he would have us all hauled out by our ears. There is to be no more talk of interference. Back to work the lot of you!” She ordered with a frown.

Everyone exited the room, heads bowed and scurried past her, off to do their various duties around the house.

“No interference?” Raven questioned, brow arched as she stopped in front of Moira. “I suppose you telling Xavier the boss likes chess isn’t meddling then?”

“It most certainly was not.” Moira insisted.

“So if I mentioned the secret passageways to Master Xavier that wouldn’t be meddling either… just providing him with valuable information.” Raven grinned.

“Of course.” Moira conceded. “For the young master’s safety he should know all routes through both the house and the club.”

“In case of emergencies.” Raven said seriously, though her lips twitched.

“Yes.”

“Well, then we are agreed. Absolutely no meddling.” Moira held Raven’s gaze and they both nodded slightly, and then left the room.

* * *

“He’s doubled his security.”

“How can I do anything now? The man is a menace! An absolute menace! Coming into my home and stealing what’s rightfully mine.” Lord Marko grumbled as Sebastian Shaw watched in disinterest.

Lord preserve him from incompetent members of London’s elite. He himself should have been in Lord Marko’s place, a man of great status and importance, but he’d had the misfortune of being born on the wrong side of the sheets. Though his father had given him an excellent education, it could not buy him the respect of the peerage – they saw him as a bastard, nothing more.

“I have not asked you to do anything, Lord Marko. If you wish to reclaim your property, that is certainly your right. All I have to offer is the schedule of Coin and Dagger’s security men. Do with it what you will.” 

Sebastian held out the piece of paper casually, and as expected Lord Marko swiped it out of his hands in an instant. He was out the door with a grumbled thanks within moments, leaving Shaw to settle back in his chair and dwell on his own score to settle with Erik Lehnsherr.

“That is the face of a man who’s had a difficult afternoon.” Emma Frost, his second in command and head of his brothel announced as she sauntered into the room.

“Lehnsherr remains a thorn in our side.”

“The loss of the omega is unfortunate. But the new acquisitions hold great promise. I have already have bookings and have no worries regarding profit.”

“I don’t care about the omega. Of course we can find new whores! I am sick of Lehnsherr’s casual arrogance and his continued interference. The man practically admitted to being responsible for our lost fighters. How satisfying it will be to wipe the smug look off that man’s face.” Sebastian declared. “Waltzing in here as if he does not owe me for every bit of his success. I will squash that man like a bug.”

“All in due time, my dear.” Emma replied coldly, sliding her arms over his shoulders and kissing his throat. “You have grand plans, but they are best laid when he least expects them. For now, let the Markos make their move – they may surprise us.”

“That is highly unlikely.” Sebastian turned to face Emma, a leer on his face. “Now, shall you lead me to our new omegas? You know I like to sample the new merchandise personally.”

“Right this way, my dear.”

Sebastian let Emma lead him out of the office toward his private rooms. Lehnsherr was a problem, a problem he very much wished he did not have. His revenge on Lensherr would have to wait, at least for the time being. For now, the pleasures of the flesh would have to distract him.

* * *

Life was mess of complexities and a great deal of it lay outside the control of each individual man or woman. Charles had lived through a great many years where he’d felt he had little to no control over his life, not the food he ate, nor the subjects he studied. Over this past week, Charles had finally found himself, through no particular action of his own, in a place where he could chose what to do with his day, he could surround himself with books, he could chat with people who enjoyed his company. It was a place, a life, completely unlike anything he had ever expected.

A husband. Chess every night. Laughter. Intelligent conversation. And it all stirred something.

“You’ve wondered off again.”

Charles jerked his head up and flushed. “Terribly sorry, Raven.”

“You have quite a few disadvantages in a fight – don’t let inattention be one of them.” Raven scolded, giving Charles a pointed look.

Charles stood up as straight as he could and nodded. Raven was, of course, quite correct. She’d asked him here this morning to teach him the basics of self defence, which had been quite unexpected. 

He had, thus far, proved to be completely inept at everything. His balance was very poor and his speed slow, due to his leg. He had so far injured his own hand after throwing a punch, tripped over his own feet when attempting to wield a staff, and been blown right off his feet after firing a pistol. Charles was sore and beginning to think he was not suited to any sort of martial activities.

“Here.” Raven stood in front of him, holding a small dagger in her hand. “This is your weapon.”

Charles looked up at Raven, smiling weakly; his body ached, his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and for a moment he wondered if he could even manage to hold the dagger. But he held out his hand and took the dagger, determined to find someway to make Raven’s training session worth all the effort.

“My mistake.” Raven shrugged, apparently unaffected by Charles’ endless failures. “This is your weapon: light easily concealed, deadly when used properly.”

“I thought the pistol was my weapon?”

Raven rolled her eyes and Charles grinned in return, glancing over at the target he’d been shooting at moments earlier, perfectly untouched.

“The dagger,” Raven interrupted him, “will be your weapon. It allows you to let your opponent in close and still have an advantage – let them think they have you and then strike.”

Raven led Charles through a series of exercises, showing him how to hold the dagger, how to concealed it, how to quickly retrieve the dagger and strike his attacker. Through it all Charles felt surprisingly powerful. Somehow now all his weaknesses had turned into strengths: his poor balance meant he could fall on purpose, controlling his own motion, while putting his opponent off balance, his small size and wiry form made it easy for his opponent to underestimate him. There was something about laying in wait, of giving his attacker a false sense of victory, that Charles settled into easily. Knowing he still had his dagger in his boot gave him a calm sense of confidence.

Charles lay on the floor, the fading light of the afternoon sun hitting the corner of the room, exhausted. The room was one he’d never been to before, certainly not a part of the tour Moira had given him last week. The walls were blanketed in tapestries, the floor an odd mix of dirty and sections of thick carpet. 

“This is some sort of training room, I take it?” Charles asked, letting his curiosity out.

Raven nodded. “The security team trains here. It’s best to be ready for anything at the club.”

“Yes, of course.” Charles replied. “You’ve been working with my husband for some time, yes?”

“I’ve been here since he opened the club. Seven years.” Raven confirmed.

“Is there often trouble at the club? Violent encounters and such?”

“No. Erik has an eye for trouble and we escort troublemakers out before chaos erupts. We have secret passageways to observe almost every inch of the club unseen. It helps us intervene quickly when need be.” Raven explained, cleaning the dagger carefully before handing it back to him and watching him as he tucked it into his boot. “Though, when violence occurs, we must be prepared. And we are.” Raven grinned, feral, her teeth gleaming.

“I have great confidence in your abilities.” Charles replied sincerely.

Raven grinned wider and slapped him heartily on the shoulder. “We should train regularly. Your safety is of the utmost importance.”

“To you, or to my husband?” Charles said softly.

“To all of us.” Raven answered, her face serious. “This place is a business, but it is also our home, our family. You are part of that family and we protect our family.”

Charles lay still, overcome with emotion, for several minutes. “Thank you, Raven.” He finally got out. “I will do whatever I can to protect this family as well.”

“You’ll do us proud.” Raven said confidently, holding out a hand and helping Charles to his feet. “You’ve got a scrappy, stubborn streak in you – you’ll fit in perfectly.”

Charles smiled and limped his way along beside Raven. A family. The thought of having a family, a true family, that would support him and care for him, and that he could support and care for in return sank deeply into him and warmed his heart. After so many years alone it was often hard to hope for such kindness, but after a week in Erik’s household, Charles was starting to believe he was right to hope again.

* * *

“We must do this on own our.” Lord Marko stood, back straight as an arrow, glaring down at his son. “Shaw may have been our ally when we had something to bargain with, but he has no interest in helping us now.”

“But the guards… how will we deal with the guards?” 

“We have the schedule Shaw provided. We will have to execute a well timed plan, my boy. You will do what I tell you and only what I tell you – is that understood?”

“Yes, father.” Cain nodded.

“Good. Round up some of your miscreant friends. We’ll need a few extra bodies for the plan to work – and tell them to be discrete, we don’t need idiots blabbing anything about.”

Cain stood and bowed to his father before leaving the room. He didn’t exactly understand all the intricacies of his father’s plan, but he only needed really needed to understand his own part. If all went well, Charlie would be back with them, ready to be carted off to another rich buyer on the continent within the next two days. Cain couldn’t contain his smile at the thought. With Charlie back, his father would finally stop hounding him for his mistake and he would be free to go to the clubs, gamble, and whore around with women to his heart’s content.

Since this whole mess was Charlie’s fault, Cain felt it only fair that Charlie should fix it. 

Letting the darkness and dank heavy fog of London surround him, Cain set off in search of trusted, tight lipped friends.

* * *

It wasn’t often that Charles found himself bored: he had an active mind and a curious soul. Since arriving at the Lehnsherr household he’d never found himself without something to do, someone to talk to, or something new to learn.

Today however, his husband and the entire staff were occupied, everyone bustling about, running to and fro. Charles had seen his husband for their morning walk in the park and then he’d excused himself with mentions of a ‘busy day’ and Charles had not seen him since.

The townhouse was quiet and raucous by turns. After his morning walk, Charles had been overwhelmed by the number of people milling about the house, and retreated to the library for tea and some much needed silence.

Venturing out again in the early evening, Charles was met with an eerie silence. Walking down the stairs and into the dining room, Charles found himself alone, not another soul to be found. It was the first time he’d been left to his own devices and Charles found himself reverting to the curious, mischievous nature of his early childhood. 

He wondered through rooms, and poked his head into every corner of the house. He kept coming back to Raven’s words from the previous day – there were secret passageways in the club and Charles was absolutely certain that at least one of them had to connect to the townhouse. Charles was determined to find it. He measured rooms, he paced the hallways, counting the distances and finally, finally he found it – a small inconsistency in room sizes.

Charles grinned at his discovery. Now, how to access the passageway… there had to be someway to open… aha! There it was; a tiny groove and a little pressure, and a narrow door popped open. Charles looked around, assuring himself he was still alone, then, after only a second’s hesitation, he stepped through the door, and continued his exploration with a sense of giddy excitement.

When the door closed softly behind him, Charles was blanketed in darkness. He could hear faint noises, but they were distant and indistinct. As he walked, his footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet below his feet. Charles ran his fingers along the walls, feeling rich velvet, and guiding himself slowly down the hall, finding small peep holes along the way and peering into the club beyond.

Each step brought him deeper into the a dark mysterious labyrinth and Charles gloried in it. How wonderful to be cloaked in darkness, to be but a shadow sneaking through the club, watching and listening, but unseen. There was an odd power here and Charles let it surround him, embolden him.

After several minutes he found a peep hole with an excellent view of a table full of men playing cards. Charles found himself immediately fixed on the scene in front of him, determination to discover what game they were playing and how it was played overcoming him within moments. His eyes and mind engaged completely, Charles forgot the world around him, easily sinking into the darkness around him.

* * *

“Is the club full?” Erik asked.

“Yes.” 

“The champagne is flowing?”

“Yes.”

“The musicians -”

“Are playing delightful music that does not detract from the gaming in any way?” Raven interrupted, arms crossed over her chest. “Yes. Everything is perfect. You’ve attracted at least half the gentry in London to the club tonight, what with the promise of free champagne and the entire cast of Drury Lane’s latest production in attendance. I have already had to turn Madam Celeste away from the doors – our increased traffic caught her interest and she wanted to bring a few of her omegas over.”

Erik scowled. “She is well aware of our policy. That money grabbing little, no-good -”

“She left, Erik.” Raven rolled her eyes. “If I have to step between you and that sweet old woman one more time...”

“That woman is not sweet. She is sneaky and underhanded and -”

“And you would protect her and her omegas at the drop of a hat. And, your description sounds exactly like someone else I know.” Raven interjected. “Someone who organized an event at his club tonight, despite being a newlywed who should be spending all his time with his new, gorgeous, intelligent husband, because he simply had to thwart his rival.”

“He’s having a fight tonight. You, of all people understand my motives; that man must be stopped.” Erik replied coldly.

“Of course.” Raven nodded curtly. “And you know I support you, I always have. We will take that man apart piece by bloody piece if we have to.” Raven stepped closer to Erik and placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. 

Erik accepted Raven’s gesture of comradery. He wasn’t a man who accepted a great deal of physical affection or comfort in his life. Raven was one of the few people he had allowed so close to him these last ten years of his life.

“I’m going to walk the passageways. I need to assure myself everything is running smoothly.” 

“Will you be coming out on the floor later tonight?” Raven asked.

Erik nodded curtly as he stood and walked to the door. “Expect me on the floor within the hour.”

Erik stepped into the quiet of the secret passageway attached to his office. He felt an odd sense of unease as soon as the door closed behind him. There was something in the air, a stirring and Erik found that though he peered at room after room filled with happy patrons, he couldn’t relax.

It was as he was approaching the end of his route that it hit him – his husband’s scent, as light and irresistible as ever. Erik’s pace immediately quickened and he rounded the corner to the final section of his route, to find his husband standing, eyes glued to the peep hole in front of him, completely unaware of Erik’s presence.

It was quite a sight. A sole beam of light striking his husband’s pale cheek, the way Charles’ brow was furrowed in deep concentration, his casual attire, no jacket, just a shirt and a waistcoat. Erik was drawn into the room like a moth to a flame.

“You’re discovering all my secrets.” Erik whispered, catching Charles by the arms as he whirled around in surprise.

“I...I...” Charles stammered and even with the limited light Erik could see his cheeks flush.

“How did you find you’re way here?” Erik inquired, moving one arm to wrap around his husband’s waist and pulling him in tight, unable to fight against the need to have Charles as close to him as possible.

“Raven said you had secret passageways in the club. Everyone was busy today and I found myself a bit restless, so… I found one.” Charles explained in a hushed whisper, his eyes wide, his hands resting on Erik’s chest.

“You found one? Alone, without assistance?” Erik asked, rubbing his thumb in circles on the small of Charles’ back.

“Yes.” Charles’ eyelids fluttered slightly and Erik felt the hands on his chest twitch. “It was very well hidden, but with a keen eye and some basic deduction… it became quite clear where it must be.”

Erik leaned down, nosing his way into the hair above Charles’ ear and drew in a slow, deep breath, letting his husband’s delicious scent wash over him in waves. He could become addicted to that scent, it was possible he already was, it was so subtle, so completely Charles.

“You’ve a keen mind, husband.” Erik pulled his head back reluctantly, wanted to keep scenting his husband, but forcing himself to pull away.

He wanted to look his husband in the eye when he asked this question. He needed to see his eyes, to know, fully and completely that Charles wanted this, needed it, as much as he did.

“May I kiss you?”

Erik’s voice was gruff with need and his whole body taunt with anticipation, but he waited and watched. Charles’ eyes widened and his mouth fell open slightly, Erik noted it all and wondered: was it somehow possible he was alone in this? Was he a fool, caught up in this heady mix of feelings marriage had somehow wrought on him, while his husband was completely unaffected?

But then, after what felt like ages, Charles’ gaze flickered down to his mouth and then back up to meet Erik’s eyes again, and Erik felt one of the hands on his chest move up, until it touched the bare skin at the back of his neck. 

Then Charles pushed himself up, his lips almost brushing Erik’s chin and said: “Please.”

And Erik was lost.

He’d asked to kiss Charles, and yet with one word, his husband had destroyed any semblance of control Erik might have had. 

Erik groaned and swooped in, capturing Charles’ lips with his own, savouring his sweet taste, feeling the heat of his compact body against his own, and loosing himself in his omega. No one kiss, or taste, or touch was enough; Erik needed more. Every sound Charles made, those sweet little whimpers that seemed to catch in the back of his throat, spurred Erik on, his hands pulling Charles closer, his tongue probing at Charles’ lips until they parted and Erik plundered Charles’ mouth, leaving not one inch of it unexplored.

Still Erik wanted. He needed. More and more.

Erik could smell their scents mingling with every breath; a perfect heady mix of musky alpha and sweet omega and his cock strained in his breeches, eager and ready to join the proceedings. It was the insistence of his erection that pulled Erik back down to earth. He had to stop this before he took Charles against the wall of the passageway, where a member of his security team could walk in at any moment. Charles deserved better than that.

“Erik...” Charles gasped, when Erik pulled back.

“I have to see Raven at the club.” Erik ground out, somehow stopping himself from reclaiming Charles’ swollen lips through sheer force of will. “I will come to you. To your room. Tonight. If you’ll have me.” Erik offered, knowing if Charles refused he would respect his wishes, but sending out his prayers to anyone who would listen that his husband would welcome him.

“Tonight...” Charles repeated, his expression dazed.

“If you want me.” Erik repeated. “I have no expectations… the choice is yours.”

Again Charles looked at him and Erik couldn’t help but wonder what was happening behind those deep blue eyes. No one had ever studied him quite like Charles, as if he was astounded and fascinated, terrified and pleasantly surprised all at once. 

“I have expectations.” Charles finally said, voice soft but certain. “I shall expect you in my room, Erik.”

Erik kissed Charles again, hard and fast and deep, hoping he could say with his lips and tongue, what he couldn’t say with words: that Charles was perfect and Erik hated to be parted from him, even knowing they would be together again, in Charles room, in his bed, later that night.

“You must go.” Erik urged, wrenching himself away from Charles and guiding him toward the door to the townhouse. “I fear I cannot control myself much longer if we stay here together. I will come to you. Soon.”

Erik opened the door and gripped it tightly to stop himself from grabbing for Charles once more. Charles stood in the light, lips swollen and red, hair in disarray, pupils blown, looking more tempting, more beautiful, than anything Erik had ever seen.

“Until tonight.” Charles said.

They both stood, eyes locked and unmoving for untold minutes, until finally Charles turned and fled down the hall.

Erik closed the door, leaving himself alone in the darkness of the passageway and leaned against the wall, willing his erection to subside.

A few hours, hopefully less. He could talk Raven into less, he was sure of it. Two hours, at most, and he would see Charles again and they would be married, joined together, in every sense of the word.

* * *

Charles felt like he was floating, or dreaming, or possibly both.

He and Erik had kissed. Kissed in a darkened room, full of mystery and intrigue and romance. His heart was still pounding almost uncontrollably in his chest and his hands were shaking. He felt a burst of laughter escape his mouth and he couldn’t contain himself, sitting down on his reading chair by the fire in a fit of helpless giggles.

Erik had kissed him again and Charles knew, just like the last kiss, he was unlikely to forget it. Ever. 

Charles wasn’t sure how long he sat there, replaying every moment of the passionate embrace over in his mind, but it felt like hours and yet no time at all. 

A thump startled him from his reverie and Charles stood, reaching for the door. Usually Kitty knocked more clearly, but then she was often carrying a tray. Charles quickened his steps and hoped Kitty wasn’t struggling, she was such a small little thing.

He was so consumed by his thoughts about Kitty, he didn’t hear thing as a man walked up behind him. No, he didn’t hear a thing, but he did feel a piercing bolt of pain in the back of his head, and then he was falling. He had a moment, lying on the floor, his vision dimming, where he saw a pair of black Hessians’ approaching, but then he knew no more.


	6. Chapter 6

Erik walked stiffly around the edges of the club, avoiding close contact with anyone, but carefully checking every nook and cranny as he moved. He wanted to finished the task at hand as quickly as possible. He didn’t want anyone to intrude, or break the perfect bubble of bliss that surrounded him. If Erik could avoid other people he could keep feeling the soft, yet firm press of Charles’ body against him. He could still smell his husband’s intoxicating scent, the hints of lemon, and tea, and musty books. If he just kept to himself he could still feel the tingle of Charles’ lips beneath his, and hear the arousing little noises he made in the back of his throat.

After a thorough examination of the last gaming room, Erik climbed the stairs to him office. It shouldn’t take him too long to organize his paperwork – he had to leave payment for the musicians, plus a generous donation to the Drury theatre in recognition of the publicity and prestige their attendance had wrought for the club tonight. Most of his other duties, budgets and calculations, would have to wait til dawn; the wealthy London elite would be gaming for hours yet.

Erik was not willing to wait hours to have Charles in his arms again.

Just as Erik was writing the last of his notes, a sharp rap sounded at his door.

“Enter.” He called out.

Raven entered swiftly and Erik was on his feet before she even spoke.

“What is it?” He asked, noting her tense muscles and smelling her anxiety.

“Lord Marko is here. The Summers’ brothers have him detained outside, but he is refusing to leave. He insists on speaking with you.”

Erik didn’t answer, he merely walked out the door, knowing Raven would be flanking him and went straight out side exit of the club. There, right where he expected them were the Summers’ brothers, with Lord Marko standing between them.

“You are not welcome here, Lord Marko.” Erik said as he stepped in front of his husband’s late guardian.

Erik felt his anger spike – this man had locked his husband in a room – but tamped it down. He needed to maintain control and keep a level head.

“You have something of mine, Lehnsherr. I want him back.” Lord Marko declared, his chin held stubbornly in the air.

“If you are referring to my husband, he is under my protection and he is no longer yours.” Erik replied coldly.

“He is damaged goods, as you have no doubt noticed. Return him to me and no one will know of your poor sense in marrying an omega of little to no value.” 

“I am not interested in making any new deals with you, my Lord, nor is my husband interested in returning to your household.” Erik informed the pathetic excuse for a man in front of him.

“That is unfortunate...” Lord Marko sighed. “I hoped we might come to a mutually beneficial agreement, but I can see you will not be swayed.”

“I will not.” Erik repeated firmly.

“And where is young Xavier this evening, hmm?” Lord Marko asked. “Safe and sound, tucked away somewhere?”

Erik stood stock still, a chill running down his spine.

“When was the last time you saw your husband, Lehnsherr? You know, those young omegas can be so flighty, so impossible. Why you might find he’s just up and left without even a word.”

Erik turned to his right, “Summers, to the townhouse immediately. Find Sean and Moira and check on my husband. Now!”

“Worried are we, Lehnsherr? You can never truly trust an omega to keep their legs closed, they’re always on the lookout for a strong alpha, someone who can put them in their place.”

“If you have touched a hair on my husband’s head, I will make you live to regret it every moment of the rest of your miserable life.” Erik growled.

“Oh, I would never.” Lord Marko held a hand up to his heart. “But Charles is such a silly little thing. He’s likely been lost without myself and Cain – he relies on us for everything...everything, Lehnsherr.” Marko sneered and licked his lips suggestively.

Erik punched the man square in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. He had heard more than enough insulting drivel from that scum of a man.

Erik turned to Raven. “When was the last perimeter check completed?”

“Warren reported in twenty minutes ago. There was a disturbance east of the club, a couple of drunks brawling. He left Rasputin to break them up. Everything else was clear and quiet.”

Erik could feel the blood pumping in his veins. Lord Marko was plotting, that much was clear.

“We head west then. You will come with me.” He pointed at Raven. “Summers, inform security at the club that there has been a breach. Institute the appropriate protocols in both the club and the townhouse.”

As soon as the remaining Summers’ brother nodded his understanding, Erik took off at a jog, heading away from the club, eyes focused and alert for any sign of something amiss.

“You think he attempted to take Charles?” Raven asked, running along beside him.

“I think he was far too satisfied with himself.” Erik muttered and then stopped short.

“What is it?” Raven hissed, looking around them frantically.

“I can… I can smell him.” Erik replied, taking off again down an alley to his left.

Raven said something after that, but Erik couldn’t make out the words. He knew she was there, he knew she was with him and that was all he cared to know. The rest of him was completely focused on the hint of lemon he could smell in the air – a scent he was certain came from Charles.

Erik sniffed the air again, a stronger whiff of lemon and the sour smell of fear hit his nostrils. Erik lengthened his stride and moved faster.

* * *

The first thing Charles was aware of was movement. He was moving. No, he wasn’t moving; he was being carried by someone, and that someone was moving. This person had him slung over their shoulder and was walking, cursing and muttering as he went.

Charles forced himself to remain limp and still. His head spun and sparks of pain thrummed through his skull, but Charles stayed as calm as he was able. It took several moments, but then it hit him: he knew this scent. The man carrying him was his step brother, Cain; he was being taken back by the Markos.

Charles felt his stomach turn at the very thought of having to return to the life he had left behind. He wouldn’t do it. Whatever it took, whatever it might cost him, he was not going to go back to being locked in a room in the Marko townhouse with no control over his fate. 

Taking the time to control his breathing and calm his mind, Charles opened his eyes slightly and attempted to get his bearings. It was dark, but the chill of the air and cobblestones beneath Cain’s feet confirmed they were outside of the townhouse and in the streets of London. Charles had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, but he hoped they were not far from the house. If he could somehow get away from Cain, perhaps he could run… the difficulty was with his head aching, and his vision limited from hanging upside down, Charles could not determine where he was or which direction to run to for safety.

Nevertheless, Charles had to take any opportunity that might present itself.

As he felt Cain’s pace slowing, he prayed he might find his chance soon.

“Turner!” 

Charles bit his lip to keep himself from reacting to Cain’s sudden shout.

“Turner, get the carriage ready. I’ve got the little bastard.” 

Charles winced internally as Cain shifted, shuffling Charles about uncomfortably.

“Are Lincoln and Kennington back yet?”

“No, my Lord. Should be back soon, I’d reckon. I heard the commotion they stirred up, but its all quiet now.”

“Well, get yourself up front then and be ready to go as soon as they arrive. We can’t risk being seen by any of Lehnsherr’s security. I’ll load this useless lump into the back.”

Charles’ head bumped and banged about as Cain shifted him once again. This might be his best and last chance at escape: Cain was alone with Turner, the driver, his associates hadn’t returned, and perhaps most importantly, Cain had no idea Charles was awake – the element of surprise was on his side.

As Cain shifted Charles about and opened the carriage door, Charles took his chance. He straightened his legs, pushing hard against the side of the carriage and throwing Cain off balance. The move caused Cain to let him go, and they both went tumbling hard to the ground. Charles barely got his hands out in time to soften the blow, the ground coming up to meet him far faster than he had anticipated.

Head spinning and body aching, Charles made an attempt to stand, but found himself overwhelmed with dizziness. With Cain yelling and cursing next to him, Charles began to crawl. 

A hard, sharp pull on his weak leg stopped him in his tracks. Charles spun and twisted and kicked, as Cain reeled him in, a feral grin splitting across his wide face.

“Thought you could get away from me, eh, you little defective?” Cain sneered, hovering over Charles menacingly, before kneeling, his weight pressing into Charles’ left leg.

“Going to cry, Charlie boy? Am I hurting you?” Cain taunted, bending down low and sniffing at Charles’s neck as Charles tired vainly to pull away. “God, you reek of him. Being a good little omega slut for him, are you? Hard to believe anyone would fuck you, but I suppose Lehnsherr does it with his eyes closed.”

Cain kept talking and Charles felt tears of pain and humiliation streak down his cheeks. He also felt the new and comforting weight of the dagger in his boot. As Cain continued his insults, Charles let his tears fall. He let Cain see him as he’d always done: as a pathetic, helpless, deformed omega who could barely walk, let alone take down an alpha of Cain’s size and strength. He let his breathing hitch and his lip quiver, and all the while he slowly reached his hand down his right side until he touched metal and held the hilt of the dagger in his hands. He was not going to be some helpless victim, not this night.

With Cain still ranting, completely absorbed in his own words, Charles raised his dagger and plunged it into Cain’s back with every ounce of strength he possessed.

* * *

Raven knew her boss. In truth, they’d worked together for so many years Raven could anticipate Erik’s needs before he ever voiced them. She was used to spending nights standing side by side, observing the club, working in silence, no words required.

Running behind him tonight, watching him literally follow his nose, she was beginning to wonder if Erik had lost his grasp on sanity. Raven wanted Charles to be safe as much as anyone, but to go running around the streets of London on a hunch and now a ‘smell’ that Raven herself, another alpha could not sense, well… it was concerning.

Just as Raven was considering how likely it was that Erik would murder her if she raised an objection to their blind pursuit, she heard it: voices, muffled shouts and the unmistakeable sound of flesh hitting flesh.

“Erik!” Raven called. “This way, I hear something!”

It wasn’t until they’d made it into the alley that Raven could make out shapes in the dark: a carriage, a driver, and what looked like two men brawling on the ground.

Raven made herself run faster, as fast as she possibly could, but even so she could not begin to keep pace with Erik. Raven felt her alpha instincts rising, her senses sharpening; every noise distinct, every scent identified, every action precise. 

Seeing Raven and Erik approaching, the driver hoped off the carriage and ran. Within feet of the two wrestling figures, Raven could see Charles’ small form pinned beneath a larger, hulking frame.

Erik had been right; Charles was in danger. Raven could scarcely believe the Markos would be so bold as to take Charles away from them, right under their noses. Raven growled low in her throat and surged forward, all of her previous doubts about Erik erased and replaced with the focused anger of an alpha who’s territory and family has been threatened.

The Markos were going to regret this night and their reckless actions. To threaten a member of the Lehnsherr household: it would not be forgiven, nor forgotten. Raven, and Erik, would make certain of that.

* * *

Charles’ vision was clouded but he stumbled his way away from a cursing, irate Cain; the man he had just stabbed. He had stabbed someone. Charles could barely believe he had done such a thing, but the bloody dagger in his hand confirmed as much.

Charles barely made it a few steps before he felt his legs being kicked out from under him and he hit the ground full force, his breath knocked right out of lungs.

Even with his head ringing and most of his brain occupied trying to get air back into his body, Charles could hear the litany of insults Cain was shouting his way.

_‘Little defective bastard’, ‘You’ll pay for that’. ‘I’ll tear your leg right off.’_ and various and sundry other threats were uttered. But Charles’ only focus was moving forward, even though he had to claw and crawl to do it.

Charles kept moving, feeling the grit of the stones beneath him cutting into his hands and knees as he struggled forward, the slick of blood making progress almost impossible. Cain was bigger and stronger, and Charles was beginning to feel any opportunity of escape was fading away.

Then, just as Cain had completely pulled him back, and Charles was trapped once more beneath his bulk, unable to move, barely able to take a breath, he heard footsteps and voices.

“That’ll be my partners, Charlie.” Cain’s sneered triumphantly.

Charles closed his eyes, refusing to look into the face of the man set on ruining his life. Two weeks. He’d had two weeks of freedom. Two weeks to rediscover a side of himself he’d so long forgotten; a man who laughed and teased, a man full of curiosity, a man willing to take risks. And most of all, two weeks with Erik. Two weeks that he would lock away in his heart and cherish forever.

Charles decided then and there, with Cain’s weight pressing his back into the cold hard stones beneath him, the stench of his breath hitting Charles’ nostrils, the squeeze of his hand against Charles’ throat, that no matter what happened, not matter what horrors Kurt had in store for him, he would never forget these two weeks. He would never forget the kindness and friendship offered to him by Moira, Raven, and the staff. Most of all, he would never forget Erik; his eyes, his solid stoic presence, his kisses.

Just as Cain tightened his grip and Charles began to have grave concerns that he may never draw another breath, he saw a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye and the pressure of Cain pressing him down disappeared. Charles gulped in air and rolled to his side.

Erik.

It was Erik. Charles almost sobbed with relief. Though, within seconds of watching Erik and Cain grappling, fists flying, and both men grunting, his relief quickly turned to fear. Fear for his husband.

It took all of his strength to push himself up and kneel on the cold cobblestones. Erik and Cain were fighting in front of him. To his right, Raven was whirling, with all the grace of a dancer, yet the deadly precision of an assassin, as she battled two men, wielding a dagger in each hand.

His head was spinning, but his objective was clear – he had to get closer to Erik. He had to make sure he was safe.

It was awkward and painful, but Charles stumbled and crawled his way forward. Erik had the advantage, he had Cain pinned under him, but Charles knew Cain would fight was every weapon in his arsenal and he would not fight fairly.

As Charles finally drew in close, mere feet away from the two men, the scent of both alphas filling the air around him, Charles felt some of his panic lessen. Erik was clearly in control, his smell dominated Charles’ senses and he knew - he knew - _his_ alpha would be the victor in this bout.

He saw it then, the glint of steel in the moonlight. A knife in Cain’s hand, heading toward Erik.

Charles managed two things at once in that instant. He yelled a warning to his husband, and his let his own dagger fly.

Chaos erupted around him. More people arrived, assisting Raven and subduing Cain’s partners. Erik and Cain rolled, over and over, until finally, Erik gained the upper hand, landing a solid punch to Cain’s face, causing the other man to lie still.

“Erik?” Charles whispered, reaching forward rather desperately, needing to touch, to assure himself that Erik was well and whole.

Erik’s head immediately snapped up and his eyes met Charles’. He was up and moving toward Charles so quickly, Charles barely got to his feet before Erik had him bundled in his arms. 

Charles groaned in relief. He tucked his head into the crook of Erik’s shoulder and inhaled deeply, letting the scent calm his frayed nerves. He dug his hands into the fabric of Erik’s jacket and held on tightly. Eyes closed, surrounded by Erik, Charles let the world drift away; all that mattered was this, all that mattered was Erik.

“Boss… Erik, you should both get back to the club.” Raven’s voice interrupted Charles’ dream-like state.

Erik stepped away from him immediately. Charles swayed on the spot, but he stood. He clenched his fists at his sides – which hurt, blast it all! - but it stopped him from clinging desperately to his husband like a child, which mattered ever so much more than the pain. 

Charles focused on that, the pain, as Raven and Erik spoke. Erik gave directions, and people moved around them. Raven went over to Cain’s prone form and collected Charles’ dagger, which was lying by Cain’s arm, handing it back to him with an approving nod of her head. Charles couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride in his chest in spite of his fatigue. It was a momentary relief from his fixation on his husband.

Someone opened the carriage door and helped him inside, one of the security guards no doubt, though in his haze, Charles couldn’t have said who. Sitting, surrounded by darkness, Charles felt his panic rising again. His hands shook, his breathing stuttered. Determined to calm himself, Charles began reciting ‘The Bonding’, an ancient poem his nanny used to sing to him when he was a child.

_The omega yields,  
and the alpha claims._

_The omega nurtures,  
and the alpha protects._

_But what is might,  
without home and hearth?_

_What is power,  
without a love worth fighting for?_

_For though the alpha’s  
Strength is clear_

_It is the omega  
who never breaks_

_But bends like a flower  
in the wind_

When he opened his eyes, Erik was hovering in the door of the carriage, drinking him in with hungry eyes. Charles felt himself relax back in his seat and gave his husband a small smile. It was enough. It was everything. Erik moved forward with purpose, sitting on the seat beside Charles and pulling him into his arms.

Charles buried his nose in Erik’s neck once more, scenting him and melting into his arms. When Erik nosed at him, scenting him in turn, burying his face where Charles’ neck met his shoulder, Charles let his head loll back. He felt weightless and eager. There was only this carriage; the feel of Erik’s strong body beneath his, the sound of his lips murmuring Charles’ name, chanting it over and over like a prayer. And the smell of him, musk and steel, pine woods and iron. So metallic, so…

Charles’ brow furrowed. Iron. He settled himself back more firmly into Erik’s embrace, grounding himself. There was something… he couldn’t put his finger on it… but there was something not quite right. He let his hands rove, running them along the smooth planes of Erik’s back, gliding his fingers down the side of Erik’s thighs, sneaking his hands under Erik’s jacket and feeling the warmth of his skin.

He drew his hand back then – wet. It was wet. Charles rubbed his fingers together and the scent of metal overwhelmed his senses.

“Erik?” Charles looked up questioningly. “Erik?”

Erik looked back at him, eyes glassy, yet completely focused on his omega.

“You’re bleeding. Erik you’re bleeding!”


	7. Chapter 7

The house was brimming with people and filled with the hum of anxious of voices. Ever since Scott had rushed into the townhouse looking for Master Xavier, Moira had been meticulously in control of the staff and any new visitors. She had directed four security team members to new posts, and swept through Master Xavier’s room with Kitty to look for any evidence of his whereabouts. She had sent Sean, their loudest footman by far, to go and rouse Dr. McCoy. Whatever the outcome of Mr. Lehnsherr’s search for his husband, Moira felt certain the doctor would be required.

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. It was a motto to live by, or so Moira thought.

When Master Xavier had crashed through the front doors, Mr. Lehnsherr draped over his shoulder, blood dripping from them both, Moira had steeled herself and been glad she’d had the forethought to call for the doctor.

Master Xavier had been happy to accept help in getting his husband up the stairs, but once they were all in one room and Moira let her employer know Dr. McCoy was on his way, well, then she had lost control of the entire situation.

“Dr. McCoy is to see my husband immediately.” Erik ordered.

“He most certainly will not!” Master Xavier exclaimed. “I am perfectly fine – you have been stabbed. Tending to your wound is of the utmost importance.”

Moira watched the two men argue, Erik lying on the bed, hand holding a cloth to his wound, Charles standing tall and proud, though covered in dirt and blood, refusing to give an inch. Their desire to care for each other warmed Moira’s heart, though the timing could not have been worse. It was clear however, that this dispute would be unresolved, unless she used all of her skill to solve it neatly.

“Master Xavier, could you assist me for a moment? Kitty is in need of an extra hand.”

Master Xavier, as expected, hurried to help. From the bed Erik scowled and grumbled about the lack of staff available to assist Kitty.

“You are to bring my husband back immediately, Moira.”

Moira smiled and whisked Charles out the door.

“Quickly, sir, quickly.” Moira ushered Charles down the hall and into his own room.

“I thought Kitty required assistance?” Master Xavier asked, brow furrowed.

“You require assistance, sir. The doctor will be here any moment and I shall send him up to see you -”

“He is to see my husband, Moira.” Master Xavier interrupted, frowning deeply.

“Mr. Lehnsherr will not settle for any sort of examination if he believes you have not been cared for. It is the way of any alpha with an omega – he must ensure your safety first.”

“I am fine -”

“Your hands are bleeding – let the doctor clean your small scrapes and cuts. Please, Master Xavier. If you want Mr. Lehnsherr to be calm enough to be seen, you must let the doctor give you some care first.”

Master Xavier frowned and Moira hoped he understood, though she suspected he didn’t. Neither of the two men seemed to fully understand the consequence of their developing bond, the instinctive reactions they were both showing. 

After a few moments of silent contemplation, Master Xavier acquiesced. Moira was relieved to settle him in his room and stand by as Dr. McCoy entered to assess his injuries. She left them, assured that Charles was in good hands, and scurried back to Mr. Lehnsherr’s room. The man was smugly pleased to hear his omega was being tended to and Moira felt a great weight ease from her shoulders.

Her good mood did not last long. With each passing minute, every moment that Erik remained apart from his husband, the more restless he became. At first, Moira was able to keep him lying with gentle reminders. Then she had to use firm commands. Finally, Erik could not be contained, struggling to rise from the bed, insistent on finding his husband. Moira was forced to call for help, feeling quite thankful when Raven, two members of the security team, Bobby, Mr. Lehnsherr’s valet, and Kitty all came rushing to her aide.

Now, in Mr. Lehnsherr’s bedroom, just as Dr. McCoy poked his head into the room, chaos erupted. Mr. Lehnsherr was yelling and thrashing on the bed and both Summers’ brothers were trying to hold him down, though Mr. Lehnsherr could hardly be said to be contained.

Dr. McCoy was attempting to shout above the crowd, to no avail. Raven was directing Bobby to help grab Mr. Lehnsherr’s legs to hold him still. The room felt thick, the air heavy with blood and sweat and rage. Moira felt helpless, standing by the bed with hot water and towels for the doctor that he couldn’t possible use, given Mr. Lehnsherr’s agitated state.

“He must lie still!” Dr. McCoy shouted.

“We’re trying!” Raven gritted out. “He’s a stubborn bastard. Erik be still!”

It was then that Moira saw movement from the far side of the room; the door adjoining Mr. Lehnsherr’s room to Master Xavier’s was opening and Moira watched, eyes wide with horror, as Master Xavier stepped through and walked straight toward the bed.

“Master Xavier, stay back!” Moira cried out, absolutely filled with fear that Erik, in his agitated state would injure his husband unintentionally, but it was too late, Charles slipped under the arm of Scott Summers and laid himself carefully on top of his husband.

The whole room froze in stunned silence, holding its breath and waiting for disaster.

* * *

His room was secure, silent, safe. Charles himself could not stay still. He should have been lying down, as Dr. McCoy had instructed. He should have been waiting, thankful to be back in his home. But he paced. He couldn’t stop. His hands twitched at his sides, each breath was an uncontrolled gulp, and all Charles could smell was what was missing: Erik.

He shouldn’t be here. He could hear the commotion in the next room, Erik’s growls shuddered through him, drawing him closer and closer to the door adjoining their rooms. Erik needed medical attention, but given the waves of scent that kept hitting Charles’ nose, he needed his omega more.

Almost without thinking, Charles opened the door. It was so clear to him what was required. The room around him was full of people, Raven, Moira, Dr. McCoy, and at least four other staff members filled the room. Charles saw them all, and yet didn’t. He had eyes only for his husband.

Erik’s lean, muscular body arched and thrashed on the bed, his every movement so clearly calling out for Charles. It was so simple, so easy to slip past all the distracted bodies between them, kneel on the bed, and cover Erik’s body gently, ever so gently with his.

“Shh. I’m here, Erik. I’m here.” He whispered.

“Charles...” Erik groaned into his neck. “Charles… you left me. You left me.”

Charles felt Erik’s fingers digging into his sides, felt the wet heat of his breath on his skin, heard the panic in his voice.

“I’m here now, love.” He soothed, shifting himself as close as he possibly could without touching Erik’s injured side. “The doctor is here, he needs to check your side. Can you stay still, darling?”

“Don’t go.” Erik’s grip tightened.

“I’ll stay right beside you...right beside you.” Charles shifted himself until he was lying beside his husband on the bed, linking their hands together.

Erik quickly ducked his head down, scenting Charles deeply. Keeping his neck exposed for his husband, Charles peeked over his head and found Dr. McCoy.

“I believe you can start your examination doctor.” Charles smiled lightly. “You’ll stay still now, won’t you, darling?”

Erik grunted an affirmative into his neck and Charles’ smile widened.

“You’re absolutely certain, Master Xavier?” Dr. McCoy asked as he took a hesitant step forward.

“I’m certain.” Charles nodded. “We’re fine here now, doctor. Perfectly fine.”

And they were. Dr. McCoy poked and prodded, and washed and tended to Erik’s wound, and though Erik grunted at the pain from time to time, he stayed still, head tucked into Charles’ shoulder the entire time, except for a few moments where both Charles and Dr. McCoy worked together to get Erik to swallow a small dose of laudanum. It pleased Charles to know his husband was in good hands with the doctor. It pleased him even more to feel his husband’s breathing ease, and his grip loosen. Even his scent, only minutes earlier filled with the sour scent of fear, had now reverted back to its usual musk; deep and rich and heady.

“The wound appears clean.” Dr. McCoy announced eventually. “It was not a large wound, but it was deep. The greatest risk is infection. If the area around the wound swells and turns red, or begins to smell off-putting, send for me immediately. I will leave the laudanum with you – it would be best if Mr. Lehnsherr takes some more in the morning. It will help with the pain. He will need to stay in bed for a week until the wound shows signs of healing.”

“Thank you, Dr. McCoy.” Charles replied sincerely. “I will insure your instructions are followed to the letter.”

Charles lifted his head high enough to crane around and make eye contact with each person crowding Erik’s room.

“Mr. Lehnsherr needs his rest.” Charles paused a moment as his husband whispered lowly into his ear. “He leaves Raven in charge of security. Angel is to run the club in his absence. Moira, as per usual, is head of the household.”

Charles stopped again as Erik angrily whispered: “Tell those interfering bastards to leave. I only need you.”

Charles hid a smile in Erik’s hair, before steeling his expression and lifting his head once more.

“Erik gives you all his thanks. Without all your efforts tonight… well the outcome could have been quite unfortunate.” Charles’ attempted to smile, but failed.

Taking a deep breath, he continued: “You are all dismissed. We shan’t need anything until morning.”

The staff, and Dr. McCoy shuffled out the door, until only Moira and Raven remained, still perched by the bed, peering down at Charles and Erik, Moira looking doubtful and hesitant, Raven with her usual impassive expression.

“Ladies,” Charles said gently, “you are free to go as well.”

“I’ll post guards at the door.” Raven said. “And in the courtyard outside. There’s won’t be a soul who walks by the building we don’t know about.”

With that, Raven left, though Charles could have sworn he could feel her anger over the night’s events and her determination to prevent any such occurrence from repeating linger in the room.

“You’ll ring if you need anything?” Moira asked, still hovering by the door.

“Of course, Moira.” Charles assured her.

“We were all so very worried, Master Xavier, for you both. I feel I can speak for all the staff when I say we are all very glad for your safe return.”

“As am I Moira, as am I.” 

Moira left then, and they were alone. Charles felt Erik’s nose burrow deeper into his shoulder and heard as much as felt him wince as he tried to twist his body closer.

“Don’t move so, darling, you’ll open your wound.” 

“Closer.” Erik muttered. “Want you closer.”

Just as he was about to protest that he could not possibly be any closer, Erik used his free arm to grab Charles’ leg and haul it on top of his own, essentially wrapping Charles around himself like a blanket. Charles huffed out a sigh and let himself settle into his husband’s body. Despite the night’s events and his injuries, Erik radiated warmth, and Charles took comfort in the strength of his muscular body and the familiarity of his scent.

“You are a stubborn man.” Charles whispered into Erik’s shoulder, and then tried unsuccessfully to stiffle a yawn.

“Sleep.” Erik instructed. 

“You too.” Charles said and yawned once more.

It should have been next to impossible to sleep attached to another person the way he was; such a novel and foreign experience. Yet, it felt good and right. He listened to his husband’s breathing, felt the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes drifted closed and as sleep came to claim him, he could not imagine where else he should be.

* * *

“He is well enough to travel.” Dr. McCoy said, turning away from the injured man to clean his hands. “The wound on his back was deep, but struck nothing serious. His arm injury was minor.”

“You’ve given him laudanum?” Raven asked, staring over the doctor’s shoulder to glare at Cain Marko’s prone form.

“Enough to still an ox.” 

“You can returned him to his father.” Raven instructed, turning to the Summer’s brothers. “Attach the note – it makes clear that should either of the Marko’s come to the club or the townhouse again, all security staff have been told to shoot them on sight.”

“I’d rather shoot him now.” Alex grumbled, though he approached the unconscious man with his brother and lifted him carefully.

Raven escorted them to the front door and watched as they loaded Cain into the carriage. She wished she could have allowed Alex to shoot Cain – the world would have been a better place, truly. Alas, the money and influence of the Markos’ could not be underestimated. The most they could all hope for was that after their failure this evening, there would be no further attempts to kidnap Charles.

Raven wasn’t about to rely on hope. She had already planned a new, more intensive training schedule for the security team. When Charles was fully healed from his injuries, they would need to continue training as well. Clearly their first lesson had been a success; Charles had stabbed Cain and helped to free himself. But more was needed.

A few booby traps perhaps…

Raven took the secret passageway until she reached the staircase to her own room. She ignored her bed and sat at the small table in the corner. Sleep could wait – it was time for strategy.

* * *

Mr. Lehnsherr was a horrible patient, which no one, including Moira herself, could say was surprising. He complained about being stuck in bed. He moaned about eating soft, bland foods. The only person he would let near him to change his dressing was Charles, he’d barely even let Dr. McCoy have a look at his wound when the man had visited to check on Erik’s progress.

On his second day in bed, when his temperature had spiked, Erik had trashed restlessly in bed, growling at everyone who wasn’t his omega and ranting incoherently through the night. Thankfully for everyone, his fever broke the next day and he was finally convinced to let his husband out of the room.

Moira knocked firmly on the door in front of her, waited for a call to enter and then slipped into the room, tray of tea and sandwiches in hand.

“Ah, Moira, you cater to my every whim.” Charles smiled.

He instantly set aside his papers and poured himself a cup of tea – his special blend.

“You need your rest, Master Xavier. You’ve done the work of two men this past week.” Moira scolded lightly, passing the young man a plate with several sandwiches.

“Nonsense. We’ve all taken on a few extra duties while my husband has been ill, but its been no hardship. The club’s books are quite fascinating.”

“I shall take your word for it, sir. I do not find the household accounts fascinating myself, they are rather a bother if I am being honest.” Moira admitted.

“Has he thrown anyone out of the room today?” Charles asked gently.

“Only Bobby. He objected to being shaved and refused most of his food.”

Charles shook his head and sighed. “Perhaps he will be more agreeable tomorrow.”

“Mr. Lehnsherr has not been agreeable a day in his life.” 

Charles chuckled and took another sip of his tea. Moira took a moment to appreciate the young man in front her. The household had been a flutter this past week. Mr. Lehnsherr trapped in bed, security guards posted in every corner. In another household chaos could have reigned, but not here. Raven had easily assumed control over security, Angel had the club running as effectively as ever, and Master Xavier, well Master Xavier has proven himself to be a calm, effective, and inspirational leader. He clearly understood how to run a household and he had a keen mind that had picked up the extra duties of managing a business alongside a household with little issue. No matter what happened, no matter the difficulties or unexpected events he faced, Master Xavier adapted and maintained his usual sunny nature.

If anyone had once had doubts about Master Xavier’s intelligence, or his ability to understand the management of a household, and more besides, well, they had all been dispelled in the past week.

“I am almost finished here, and then I will go see him. Perhaps I can coax him to eat a bit more today.” Charles said.

“He would do anything for you, sir.” 

Charles flushed at Moira’s teasing words, but she knew them to be true. Whenever anyone in the house needed Mr. Lehnsherr to do something and he refused, they all knew to turn to Master Xavier – the man could work magic on their employer.

“I believe Erik is meeting with Raven at the moment. If you could let me know when they are done, I would be most grateful. Until then, I must get back to the books.” Charles said with a sigh.

“I’m sure you will have them balanced in no time, sir.” Moira said encouragingly.

She closed the door softly behind her and smiled. No matter what happened, no matter how many trays of food Mr. Lehnsherr tossed on the floor, or how many threats they faced, Moira felt secure that with Mr. Lehnsherr and Master Xavier at the helm, the household would weather these troubled times.

* * *

Erik did his best to observed his husband surreptitiously, but was rather certain he was failing. Charles kept looking over the top of the book he was reading aloud, his face the picture of perfection: big blue eyes, freckled nose, and soft, gentle smile. It was truly unfair to be married to such a gorgeous creature while being confined to bedrest; unable to touch, taste, and mold himself against Charles’ smaller form.

After a week in bed, Erik felt he could climb the walls in frustration. He’d never been away from the club this long since he’d started it seven years ago. Even when he travelled away for business, he always ensured he’d be back on the floor of the club within a week. The club was the focus of his life.

Now, there was Charles. Creeping into his thoughts at all hours of the day, making him feel so many things he’d thought to be impossible. Feelings he had long denied himself and thought he was better for their lack.

“Are you in pain?” Charles asked suddenly. “You’re scowl is quite ferocious.”

“I am not in pain.” Erik scoffed. “I am simply sick of listening to a fictitious tale. I wish to know what is going on in the world. I am a man of business, lying here detached from everything is simply unacceptable -”

“The club is running smoothly.” Charles said, laying his novel down. “I balanced the books this afternoon -”

“You’ve been doing the books?” 

“Hmm.” Charles nodded. “Daily.”

Erik arched a brow. His husband was a fount of surprises.

“And your verdict?”

Charles met Erik’s stare directly, his face serious and as businesslike as Erik’s own. “The club’s profits have held steady. They are, of course, down from the night of the attack, which is only to be expected, but they are on par with a typical night of gaming at the club. Profits are down marginally, but foot traffic remains high. Angel reports there are rumours regarding your lack of presence in the club, but nothing that has posed any risk to security.”

“Profits are down marginally.” Erik repeated. “How marginal is the drop?”

“One to two percent per night.” Charles replied quickly. “Though the last two nights were on par with typical profits. You have nothing to be concerned about… though I would suggest you speak to Mr. Toynbee when you return to your regular duties.”

“Why?” Erik’s eyes narrowed immediately, his muscles tightening.

“He’s misreported his table earnings every other night this week.” Charles frowned and shrugged. “He is either poor at mathematics, or he is attempting to take money for himself.”

“Angel is aware.” Erik asked, palms itching to get to the club and see the man himself.

“Of course.” Charles nodded vigorously.

“He’s a new addition.” Erik commented, distracted by thoughts of how such a man could possibly have been hired – Erik and Raven evaluated all new employees and they almost never judged inaccurately. “You prove yourself capable in all areas, husband.”

Erik watched, fascinated, as Charles flushed scarlet and ducked his head down, looking at his hands.

“I have some familiarity with balancing household accounts from my time in Westchester. There was little difference between that and the club.” Charles said dismissively.

Erik knew that to be a lie. The club was infinitely more complex then the household accounts – Erik had completed both for years before turning the household accounts over to Moira with only minimal supervision on his part. During the course of this crisis, his husband had proven himself to be far more than just a handsome young man. 

“You should not dismiss compliments so readily.” Erik said as he reached out for Charles’ hand and clasped it with his own. “They are only the truth.”

Charles stayed silent, eyes fixed on their interlinked hands. Erik took a moment to curse the Markos once more; he had little doubt that Charles had received next to no encouragement or kindness from his family.

“I was certain Moira had conspired with you and sent you in here to ensure I was shaved and force fed.” Erik smirked at the round eyed innocent expression his husband gave him. “You deny this plot against me?”

“I deny any sort of plot.” Charles said, a smile escaping onto his lips. “Kitty will be up with a light soup shortly, which I will encourage you to eat for your own benefit. Nothing will be forced, though it will ease my worries to see you fed.”

Erik felt Charles squeeze his hand gently and knew he would not refuse his husband’s request. As much as he disliked the tepid, bland soups sent his way each day, he would eat. For Charles.

“And a shave? Am I to expect that as well?” Erik challenged.

“No.” Charles smiled and flushed again. “I find I quite like your beard.”

“Do you?” Erik asked, doing his best to sit up straighter, despite the stab of pain in his side.

“I do.” Charles replies solemnly as he reached out to touch Erik’s whiskers. “It makes you look rather rugged. And it is surprisingly orange – a bold colour for a bold man.”

“You are attracted to bold and rugged men.” Erik asked gruffly.

“I am attracted to you.” Charles answered softly, his eyes peeking out from under his lashes.

“If I were well...” Erik began, his voice low and full of far more emotion than he would have wanted. “If I were uninjured, I would have you. I would pull you into this bed, strip you naked, and kiss every inch of you until you quivered and begged for me. And I would not let go of you until dawn.”

Erik watched Charles’ breathing increase and his chest heave. He watched his pupils blow and his lips part. And he wished, how he wished he could make good on his words this very instant.

“Stay with me, Charles?” Erik said instead. “Lie next to me in this enormously large bed; eat soup with me and read more of that novel.”

Instead of answering, Charles gently placed the novel down on the bedside table, took off his boots, and climbed into the bed beside Erik, careful to keep his distance.

“I haven’t been stabbed on this side. Come closer, Charles.”

“You are a very persuasive man.” Charles muttered, as Erik pressed their sides together. “Are you prepared for more of Miss Austen’s work?”

“I cannot wait to hear what becomes of that scoundrel Wickham.”

Charles chuckled lightly and began to read. Erik let his husband’s voice waft over him and settle all his nerves. Later he ate soup under Charles’ watchful eye, despite his general hatred of the stuff. 

He fell asleep to the sound of Charles’ voice; his perfectly crisp, clearly upper class voice. He fell asleep with his husband’s body and his warmth pressed up along his side. For a moment, the pain in his wound disappeared and all Erik could feel was the swelling of his own heart, a heart which had opened up wide despite his own protests and fears, and welcomed Charles right in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may need a bit longer for the next update, and I apologize for that. Times are strange right now and my motivation to write is really waxing and waning - I have great days and really horrible days. It makes sticking to a timeline difficult. I promise to do my best.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented and supported this fic. It has truly been incredible.
> 
> I received fan art inspired by this fic today and that has never happened to me before. I am so very flattered that people are enjoying this so much. 
> 
> I hope in these difficult times we can all keep creating and helping each other through fandom and fanfic.


	8. Chapter 8

“Your wound is healing well. I see no signs of infection, though you have clearly lost weight, Mr. Lehnsherr, which is not ideal.” Dr. McCoy declared.

“But I can leave this infernal bed?” Erik asked with a scowl.

“You can. You are limited to light duties,” Dr. McCoy cautioned. “most certainly not prowling around the floor of your club breaking up fights. You can walk around your home, eat more flavourful meals, complete work at your desk. You are not to lift any heavy items, or engage in any rough physical activity. You will continue to need more rest to help your body heal. If you push yourself too hard, you will find yourself right back in this bed, Mr. Lehnsherr.”

“I am not an idiot.” Erik grumbled.

“But you are a stubborn man, and one used to doing exactly as you wish. You will need to pace yourself in order to recover. I will leave a list of instructions with your husband; he seems to have managed you very well so far.”

Erik watched Dr. McCoy leave with a scowl on his face, and no small amount of relief in his heart. The better part of a fortnight in bed was not something Erik had been happy to tolerate. He’d been itching to leave the confines of his room for days. Even the comforting presence of his husband hadn’t been enough to calm his nerves these last few days; he had been surly, snappish, and short tempered.

This morning, before Dr. McCoy had arrived, Erik had been so cruel to the staff, and to Charles, that they had all quit the room and not returned. 

Now, alone in his grand room, Erik forced himself to sit up in bed and swing his legs over the side. He stood slowly on trembling legs and collapsed back down far more quickly than he would ever admit. After resting, he got back up on his feet and walked across the room to the chair by the fire. He was relieved there was no one around to witness him hobbling about with all the gracefulness of a newborn colt, afraid with every step that his legs might simply give out. He rested in the chair for a quarter hour before staggering his way back to the bed and ringing for Bobby.

He didn’t think he’d mind the help of his valet today. Not even a little bit.

* * *

“We’ll find him.” Raven vowed, her voice low and confident.

“You’d better.” Erik glared. “How did he get passed us? How could a thief have been working at our club?”

“People slip through sometimes. It’s unfortunate, but inevitable. Charles found his errors quickly - the club hardly lost anything thanks to him.” Raven insisted, trying and failing to ease Erik’s tension.

“I don’t like it. I don’t like any of it.”

“Toynbee? Or the attack on Charles?” Raven prodded.

“Both.” 

Erik sat, straight and tense. If he’d been well, if he wasn’t likely to fall over from minimal exertion, he would have been pacing the room.

“How did they grab him? How did they know when to strike?”

“They created a diversion -”

“It took more than that. They had to know the routes of the guards. The kidnapping was far too complex a plan for the Markos to conceive on their own. They must have had help.” Erik steepled his fingers and closed his eyes. “And now we have a thief in our midst. A thief who has worked here just long enough to learn the new guard schedule.”

“We’ll find him, Erik. Angel asking him to come to the office must have tipped him off that his theft had been discovered and he ran – but we will find him. We’ve contacts and spies all over London, there’s nowhere he can go that we won’t follow.”

“It all smells of Shaw and his schemes.”

“Erik.” Raven moved forward, her expression hard. “Security is still doubled. We have not seen hide nor hair of Shaw or his minions. Try to calm yourself.”

“I will be calm when I have Toynbee in front of me ready for questioning.” Erik declared, arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you going to be impossible until we drag him in here?” Raven asked pointedly.

“Perhaps.” Erik grumbled.

“That is clearly a ‘yes’.” Raven rolled her eyes. “If you insist on being so irritable, I have work to do.”

Raven strode to the door, shaking her head as she went. Just as Erik thought she’d left him alone to brood in peace and quiet, she poked her head back through the door.

“Your husband has been in his study all morning… if you’ve been looking for him.”

Erik held her gaze, careful to keep his face expressionless. Apparently everyone knew his weakness: the doctor, Raven, the staff. Everyone knew Erik longed for Charles. They knew to send Charles in when he was curt and snappish, or brooding and glum.

It irked. This weakness. He couldn’t stop it. Sometimes he wanted to. Sometimes, when Moira, or Bobby gave him an exasperated look, left his room and fifteen minutes later Charles appeared to coax him to eat tepid broth and bland oat cakes, he wished he could send Charles away with a harsh word just to prove he couldn’t be manipulated. But then Charles would smile, and Erik couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse him anything.

Other times, his attachment to Charles hardly felt like weakness at all. It felt like warmth and passion, comfort and desire. It was long conversations by candle light with an intelligent and engaging partner. It was well fought chess matches. It was heady kisses that he hoped would never end. It was the only pure light he’d had in his life since his parents had died and he wanted it so badly it shook him to his core.

Could he be the man he needed to be with Charles in his life? Could he run his business, exact his revenge and absolutely bury Sebastian Shaw for all the wrongs he had committed if he had such a point of weakness?

* * *

Charles was not hiding.

He knew when he was truly hiding. He had spent years hiding from Cain and his fists, and Kurt’s angry voice. Hiding had been pure self-preservation and not something he had done often, truth be told. Hiding was shivering in the crawl space in the cellar, knees to his chest, praying that Cain wouldn’t find him. Hiding was sleeping out in the stables with the horses so Kurt didn’t find him and give him an hour long lecture and ten lashes for good measure.

He usually did what he was doing today: fading. He simply faded into the background of the household chaos, making himself as unobtrusive as possible. And people forgot about him; just as he intended them too. 

It had been two days since Erik had been seen by Dr. McCoy and given permission to resume light duties. Keeping him to restricted duties had been nearly impossible.

Erik had roamed the club before it’s opening yesterday, despite protests from Raven, Angel and Charles. He had insisted he had not left his club for such a length of time in all its existence and he would not be held back by an ‘insignificant wound’.

Charles had peered through the peep holes in the secret passageway as Erik made the rounds with Raven and Angel, watching for any signs of discomfort. Erik, despite the pain he must have been feeling, stood straight and proud and displayed not one sign of fatigue or weakness.

Charles had wanted nothing more than to usher his husband off to his room and encourage him to rest and eat after the tour of the club, but Erik had breezed past him, offering only a quick excuse that he ‘must check the books’, before disappearing once more.

Charles had been left standing, stunned and more than a bit put out.

That night, for the first time since Erik’s injury, Charles had slept alone in his large, cold bed. He felt the loss of his husband’s scent, his heat, even his light ruffling snores, like a weight on his chest. He’d tossed and turned for hours, unable to find comfort, before exhaustion sank in and he slept.

This morning, his husband had been absent from the dining room at breakfast. Charles felt the sting of the dismissal.

He may have been helpful and wanted during Erik’s injury and illness, but now he was not needed, nor wanted.

He had spent the day in his study, a small room tucked into the far corner of the townhouse’s second floor, that, at least to Charles’ knowledge, Erik had never set foot in. He had been sitting at his desk, surrounded by letters and the household accounts for hours, though to be fair, he had accomplished little in the last hours.

He had instead been sitting, staring blankly out the window, lost in thought.

Kurt and Cain had always said he was defective; that he would never succeed in pleasing an alpha. Though Charles had tried to keep his optimism intact, and felt he and Erik had certainly made positive steps toward and agreeable marriage, today he could only feel lost and adrift, completely uncertain of his future.

A sharp knock on the door made Charles jump in his seat. He took a moment to compose himself, rearranging papers and patting at his hair, hoping he didn’t look as disheveled as he felt.

“Enter.”

Quite unexpectedly Raven stepped through the door.

“Raven.” Charles stood immediately. “Does my husband need me?” He asked, cursing the desperation in his voice.

“He remains occupied with club business, sir.” Raven said. Her voice softer than usual. “I have time for another training session tomorrow afternoon.”

Charles could feel the good intentions behind Raven’s comment. They had been working together almost daily to improve his physical abilities; throwing knifes, wrestling, and building his strength. After the Markos’ kidnapping attempt, Charles was hardly willing to let himself relax and had been training with Raven in the basement almost daily. Since Erik’s return to his daily routine though, Raven had been occupied, and Charles’ lessons had been forgotten. Or perhaps not.

“We could train?” Charles asked, cautiously hopeful. “You are not needed elsewhere?”

Raven shook her head. “Come down to the training room after luncheon tomorrow. I will be ready for you.”

Charles found himself smiling as Raven left the room. He hadn’t had much to smile about of late, but an afternoon of physical exertion might be just the thing to keep his mind off his husband and his sudden disinterest.

* * *

“You found him?” Raven asked, eyes narrowed.

“We did.” Alex Summers grinned fiercely. “Tracked him down to the docks, trying to make his escape aboard a ship.”

“He’s downstairs?” 

Alex and his brother Scott nodded in unison.

“Excellent.”

Raven stood and headed to the townhouse. She couldn’t think of anything that would make Erik happier than knowing they had Toynbee locked in the basement. She headed up the stairs to find Erik, taking the steps two at a time.

* * *

Mortimer Toynbee was an unimpressive man. Sitting in a chair, trapped in the basement under the club, Toynbee looked small and ragged. The Summers’ brothers had found him in a pub by the docks, waiting for a ship. With his bulky, stained clothes, Toynbee looked every inch the man who had been trying to escape in secret and had stopped to drown his worries with cup after cup of ale.

Erik had been standing in front of the man, rather put off by his putrid smell, for several minutes and Toynbee had yet to lift his head and meet his gaze. A coward. A purely spineless coward.

“How long have you been working for Shaw?”

Toynbee did not speak. He didn’t even raise his head.

“You may think it’s best to stay silent. You may believe it is best to remain loyal to Shaw, that you face the greatest risk if you betray him, but you are mistaken. I am the man you should fear. You should fear my wrath if you are not honest with me. However, unlike Shaw you will find I have the ability to show lenience to people who are willing to cooperate.”

“Lenience?” Toynbee repeated, glancing up at Erik furtively.

“Lenience.” Erik nodded. “If you provide me with the truth, if you admit to your role in Shaw’s business, then, it is possible I will let you go.”

“That’s the honest truth, mister? Swear on your mother?” Toynbee questioned.

“Honest truth.” Erik replied flatly.

Toynbee eased back in his seat, legs spread, a self-satisfied look on his face.

“Shaw said you were a soft touch.” Toynbee smirked.

“Why did Shaw send you to my establishment?” Erik asked, ignoring Toynbee’s goading comment.

“I’m a spy.” Toynbee grinned.

Erik stood stone faced and waited. His patience was fading quickly and he was almost certain he was being toyed with – which was not something he would be forgiving. However, Erik was more than patient enough to let Toynbee hang himself with his arrogance.

“You are one cold fish.” Toynbee scoffed. “I was spying on club security: times, routes, staff.”

“Why did Shaw want this information?” Erik asked.

“Never told me that, did he?” Toynbee shrugged.

“I find it difficult to believe that a man such as yourself – a man of cunning and experience – did not have any idea of why Shaw assigned you such a mission.” Erik noted, playing on Toynbee’s vanity.

“Well, he never said, but all the boys knew he wanted the whore back. Shaw had grand plans for that one.”

“What plans?” Erik only just managed to keep the anger from his voice.

“You know how Shaw likes to sample the goods.” Toynbee sneered. “Never fucked a peer of the realm has he? Think he was looking forward to it.”

Erik inhaled deeply to keep his calm. The very idea of Shaw putting even a finger on Charles made his blood boil.

“Shaw assisted the Markos in their attempt to kidnap my husband?”

“Nah. Let them get their hands dirty, didn’t he? Had me in place just in case security changed, but you and that she-warrior of yours didn’t change a damn thing.” Toynbee laughed.

“And once your task was done, you decided to pay yourself from my coffers?”

“Figured I earned it.” Toynbee said, chin jutting out.

“That was a mistake.” Erik declared.

“Haven’t got it now, if that’s what you’re after.”

“That is not what I am after.” Erik stated gruffly. “I am looking to punish everyone and anyone who wished harm to come to my husband.”

“Your omega? Wouldn’t be so put out if I were you. Get yourself a new one; there’s better omega whores around the corner from you. Stuck up little prick like your high born omega couldn’t take a co-”

Erik flashed his fist out and connected with Toynbee’s face in an instant. The crunch of bone under his fist echoed through the room.

“I’ll thank you not to speak of my husband in such a disrespectful manner.”

“You’d defend that little -”

Erik struck out once more, this time bringing his foot down with satisfying force on Toynbee’s knee. The other man cried out, doubling over and clutching at his leg.

“I believe I’ve made myself clear: my husband is off limits, both to your insults and to Shaw.”

“You’ll regret this Lehnsherr.” Toynbee spat out. “Shaw won’t forgive or forget.. You really think I was the only one? The only one to get close to you and your precious little omega? Do you?” Toynbee taunted.

Erik growled and let his fists fly. He barely felt the pain in his own body as his blows connected with Toynbee’s face and torso. But not matter how many threats he issued, or how many blows he landed, Toynbee would not talk. Erik punched until Toynbee’s face was a mass of swollen flesh and bloody rivers ran down his chin, all to no avail.

Erik stepped away from Toynbee, chest heaving, blood boiling with frustration, and called for the Summers brothers. He stood back, arms crossed over his chest until they entered.

“Take him away.” Erik instructed.

“Where are they taking me?” Toynbee shouted, blood flying from his mouth as the brothers hauled him to his feet and began dragging him from the room.

“You had a ship to catch; we’ve merely found you another one. You are the last passenger aboard a convict ship to Australia.”

“No!” Toynbee cried. “No, you promised lenience!”

Erik strode over to Toynbee, glaring down at him in disgust.

“You were promised leniency for honesty and we both know you have been far less than truthful with me.” Erik gritted out. “I am showing you great lenience, Toynbee. You are alive which is far more than you deserve.” Erik stepped back once more, switching his focus to his own security staff and refusing to give Toynbee another second of his attention, despite his continued pleading. “Escort Mr. Toynbee to the docks. We wouldn’t want him to miss his ship.”

* * *

“Did Toynbee give you what you needed?” Raven said, as she wrapped his knuckles.

“No.” Erik grumbled.

“Nothing?” Raven asked, her disbelief clear.

“He gave something.” Erik conceded. “But not all.”

And that was the problem. Toynbee had not given enough. In the end, despite Erik’s threats, he had not completely turned on Shaw. He had taunted Erik by answering most of his questions, but had not given enough, not nearly enough. There was still so much unknown, and far too much of Shaw’s plans against Erik, and most specifically Charles, left in the dark.

Shaw still had his claws dug into Erik’s affairs, and tonight, exhausted by his confrontation with Toynbee, barely able to stand on his own, Erik had to face facts. Raven currently had him propped up as they made their way slowly up the stairs to Erik’s room. With his legs shaking beneath him, Erik had to wonder how he could possible defend his club, his staff, and his husband from Shaw’s threats, as Shaw would certainly not let things rest. Toynbee had been a mere pawn in a much larger game, one Erik was not completely certain he was fit to play.

* * *

Charles pushed and strained, using every muscle in his body to fight against Raven, to find leverage. He made absolutely no impact at all; Raven had not moved an inch, her strength had not waned, her grip had not eased. He tried to remember everything Raven had said to him over the course of their lessons; all the mornings of throwing knifes, practicing thrusts with his dagger and how to target opponents, grappling on the mats until he could barely walk up the stairs back to his room. He had some skill now, limited thought it was.

He thought about how much he’d needed this today. He’d needed a release, an outlet to let go of all of his tension. Charles had felt lost at the sudden loss of contact with Erik and their complete lack of conversation over the past two days. He had little to no idea of how to bridge the unexpected gap between himself and his husband. Things had seemed so different only days earlier. For the week of his recovery, Erik had seemed to relish Charles’ presence, eating with him, reading with him, insisting Charles sleep beside him each night. And Charles had found himself so very enamored by his husband: he loved the slight scratch of his beard as it rubbed his cheek in the night, he cherished their spirited chess matches, and he was comforted by feeling of his husband’s warmth and the rhythm of his breathing in the quiet of the night.

It felt as if all of that, now, might be lost.

As if sensing his desperation, Raven hadn’t held back. They usually eased into the physical contact, but today it had been straight to the mats. Raven had never tackled him as roughly as today, never dared to push him so hard. Charles could feel his muscles aching, he could feel the pain in his leg and the sweat on his brow, and he relished it.

This life he had started here, with Erik, seemed to hang in the balance. But this afternoon on the mats with Raven all his worries could be forgotten; what mattered was only whether Charles could set Raven off balance, whether he could overcome her strength with cunning and determination of his own. Could he use the strengths Raven had helped him see in himself and win this bout?

Charles let himself take one deep breath, one moment to steady himself, and then he put his plan into action.

* * *

Erik knew he had been aloof and cold since his recovery. He had focused on the club and on security. The last day’s events with Toynbee had only escalated his fears. Everything he did, every move had made was now focused on trying to out think his rival. He had worked long into the evening with Raven to rotate the security schedule – determined to keep Shaw from finding any pattern or predictability.

He was aware he had pushed Charles away these past two days. He had needed to. Charles was a liability. Any indication that Erik was attached to Charles, that he cared for him in any way, would simple put him at greater risk. Erik had no earthly idea how to explain all of this to Charles, and yet after two days without a full conversation with his husband, Erik ached for him. He wanted to hear his voice, to smell his scent, to see those blue eyes of his shine with humour and intelligence.

This morning, like most of yesterday, Charles was missing. Erik had searched, perhaps slightly desperately, every room on every floor of the townhouse. Finding no sign of Charles, Erik had even wandered the club’s hidden passageways to no avail.

Having exhausted himself, Erik had short nap on the settee, then made his way to the basement. If he couldn’t find his husband and he didn’t have the stamina to walk around his own home, he decided that heading to the training room to watch Raven put the security team through its paces was the most likely form of distraction available.

As he approached the room he paused – the unexpected sound of Charles’ voice echoing down the hall making his feet stop and his body stand still.

“I can’t do this, Raven.” Charles sounded tired, almost lost.

“Giving up?” Raven asked lowly.

Erik took a tentative step forward and peered into the room. Raven had Charles down on the floor, trapped under her as she held him securely in place. Charles’ hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, and beneath Raven’s lithe and muscular form, he looked small and fragile.

The hairs on the back of Erik’s neck stood up. The impulse to charge into the room was almost overwhelming. He had to deliberately stop himself from stepping into the room and hauling Raven off his husband and cradling Charles in his arms.

Before he could decide his best course of action, Charles moved, or more accurately, he bucked. His movement was strong and unexpected, and it completely threw Raven off balance. Charles quickly took advantage of the situation, flipping their positions until he was hovered over Raven, his knee on her chest, dagger held to her throat, with a stunned, wide eyed look on his face.

“Did I… do you… do you yield?” Charles asked, his voice high, clearly dumbfounded by his own success.

Raven grinned, wide and feral. “I do.” 

And then she laughed, wild and free. Charles joined in slowly, hesitantly, but within moments he was hunched over, holding his side, his body shuddering with uncontrolled bursts of laughter.

Erik couldn’t stop himself from moving closer, taking a full step into the room. He hadn’t seen Charles smile or laugh so freely in days, perhaps even weeks. He soaked it in now, the richness of Charles’ laugh, the purity of his happiness. He wanted to bathe in it. He wished it was a thing he could touch. He wished he’d been the one to make his husband so joyful. He wished what he had to say wouldn’t take that smile away.

Eventually Raven stood and held a hand out to Charles, hauling him back up to his feet. She was praising him, telling him how well he had done, how much he had improved – though Erik wasn’t really listening to her words. His focus was his husband, the way his blue eyes glittered in the low light, the way his shirt clung to his chest with sweat, the set of his shoulders as he stood to his full height; tall and proud as he received Raven’s enthusiastic compliments.

He startled slightly when Raven lifted her gaze and her eyes met his, caught as he was observing them. Raven, however, simply arched a brow at him and turned her attention back to Charles. 

Erik stepped back, hiding himself in the shadows once more. Within moments, Raven exited the training room, giving him a pointed look as she passed him by. 

Stepping into the room, the first thing that hit him was the strength of Charles’ scent; mint and lemon and sweat, pouring into his nostrils and filling his senses. His eyes narrowed their focus to the beads of sweat running down the long white column of his husband’s neck, just begging to be licked.

It occurred to Erik as he kept moving closer that he had never seen Charles in such a state of undress; just a shirt and breeches, no cravat, feet bare on the floor. It made Erik want to drape him in clothes – fine linen, brightly coloured waistcoats to bring out his eyes, breeches that hugged the musculature of his legs – almost as much as it stoked his desire to strip him bare and touch every inch of his pale, freckled skin.

He wanted to stay this way, just watching Charles, alone with his thoughts and the rolling emotions he could barely contain. He didn’t want to break the spell, the perfection of the moment. His words would, that much he knew, but for now, perhaps he could have this; this perfect image of his husband, the picture of innocent temptation.

Except, inevitably, Charles turned, lifted his head and looked at Erik and for a moment they simply stood, staring.

“You have something to say to me.” Charles declared and again Erik was struck by his almost unnatural talent to discern the truth of a situation in seconds.

“I do.” Erik nodded.

His eyes locked on Charles’ blue ones, Erik took a breath, opened his mouth and delivered his decision.

* * *

Charles found himself sitting in yet another carriage, at the direction of another man who had control over his life. He now had hours alone in the carriage to replay his conversation with Erik and to try to piece together his broken heart.

_“I am sending you to one of my estates, south of the city.” Erik said._

_Charles was rooted on the spot, stunned. He had thought… he had thought they were… he had thought there was something between them. Something building and growing. Something to cherish. He had thought, imagined for more hours than he might like to admit, that he might find happiness and love with his husband – a possibility he had long since rejected as an impossible childhood dream._

_“You are sending me away?” Charles asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound as pained as he felt._

_Sent away. Only a month prior, when he had first married Erik, being sent to live in a country estate and forgotten about had seemed a good option, but now it struck him to the core._

_Rejected. Again._

_“It is the best course of action.” Erik replied firmly, his face impassive, hands held behind his back. “You are familiar with the country life, I am sure you will be happy there.”_

_“Do you visit the estate often?” Charles couldn’t keep from asking, still hoping, still wishing that this was somehow not the end of his marriage._

_“No.”_

_Charles felt his shoulders start to sag in defeat and deliberately stood up as straight as he could._

_“When am I to leave?” He asked, accepting his fate, though his hands trembled slightly at his side._

_“The carriage will be ready at first light.”_

Charles had made himself ready this morning, buttoning his waistcoat methodically, carefully keeping his mind blank. He’d packed his belongings carefully, quite stunned to find how much more he had now than when he’d arrived.

He’d managed to hold himself steady when Moira had bid him goodbye, brushing tears off her cheeks. He’d been happy to find Sean, as well as Alex Summers, one of the security team, were escorting him to the estate and would stay there with him. To have a familiar face with him provided a small comfort in the face of such a large loss.

Charles could feel the ache in his heart and the sting of tears in his eyes. Again he had failed to please a husband. What had begun with such promise, with so many small moments of intimacy, friendship and even desire, had somehow come crashing down around him.

Erik had provided a much nicer and more comfortable carriage than Charles had ridden in on his trip to London. He was almost comfortable, though he knew he wouldn’t be after hours confined in a cramped space.

He wondered what he had done to lose Erik’s affection. He wondered what he could have done differently. Perhaps if he had not taken over the club’s books and inserted himself into his husband’s business. Perhaps if he’d been more seductive, more enticing, an omega who could have tended to all of Erik’s sexual desires, perhaps then he would not be here.

He was full of questions, so very many questions. Though it seemed that no matter how hard he thought about his time with Erik, his actions and inactions, no answers came.

It was likely best not to focus on the past.

He wondered, instead, what he would find at Erik’s estate.

* * *

Erik was seated in his office, staring out the window with unseeing eyes when his door crashed open.

“You sent him away?” Raven stormed toward his desk and stood, hands on hips glaring down at him.

“I did.” Erik replied without meeting her eyes.

“You’ll regret it.” Raven stepped in front of him, demanding his attention. “You’ll regret this, Erik. You’re practically bonded to him! Bonded pairs cannot -”

“We are not bonded.” Erik grunted, pushing himself up to his full height.

“You can deny it if you want, but I can see what’s in front of my own two eyes.” Raven countered. “Bring him back.”

“He is not safe here!” Erik growled. “Shaw is plotting against me - he wants Charles for himself. He’s nearly defeated us once. And I… I cannot protect him.”

Erik was loath to admit to his weakness, but it was the harsh truth. He let his head hang, dropping his eyes to the floor.

“Erik...” Raven touched his arm gently. “We could protect him. All of us together.”

“I won’t risk him.” Erik said, meeting Raven’s gaze. “I won’t.”

Raven held his gaze for several moments and Erik hoped she could see then, in his eyes, all the words he couldn’t say. How much he already hurt from watching Charles leave in the carriage through the window that morning. How he felt like he had lost of piece of himself, as though all the warmth and kindness had vacated his home this morning along with Charles. It was what he needed – no distractions, no weaknesses, no chance of missing Shaw’s next move. It was what he needed, but it was far from what he wanted.

Someday, when all of this madness was finally all over, Erik hoped he would be able to make it up to Charles, somehow. He wasn’t quite sure what he would do if he couldn’t.

“Oh Erik.” Raven whispered.

They stood there, in silence, a mutually understood mourning, for several minutes. Then the plotting began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! I posted on schedule :) Woot woot! I didn't think I could do it, since I re-wrote this entire chapter (so I technically have 2 chapter 8s...) and I was certain I wouldn't get back on track, but somehow it happened.
> 
> Fingers crossed I can continue. And thank you to everyone who sent messages of understanding - I greatly appreciate your patience.
> 
> Once again, all comments and kudos are treasured. Any interaction I have with my readers just makes everything so worthwhile :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I would like to apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. My mental health has been on a bit of a rollercoaster ride lately and when I'm not as well, I don't write very quickly. I hope the next chapter will not be late and I will get back on track, but these are strange times and its hard to make any promises.
> 
> Also, a big shout out to my lovely beta, who has been so helpful in making this fic what it is and helping me make each chapter better.

He was stiff and sore, as he’d expected. The journey to Erik’s estate had not been long, only ten hours yesterday and a further 6 today. As always, Charles had done his best to keep his leg moving, and as always, travel in a confined space had prevented him from succeeding.

Despite the early time of year, the air was milder here in Kent. Charles held out hope that the warmer temperatures and long country walks might aid in a quick recovery. When the carriage finally turned down a long lane, headed toward a small, but stately home, the sun shone brightly, much brighter than could ever be expected of a late February day in London.

Charles rose stiffly inside the carriage, and gratefully took Sean’s hand as he exited, pain shooting up his left leg as he focused his attention on the estate. The home itself was well maintained, perfectly symmetrical, obviously a newly built home with no extensions. To either side a variety of outbuildings suggested the estate was a working one, with horses and fields to be tended and harvested.

“Welcome to Graymalkin, Master Xavier.”

Charles turned toward a smooth, kind voice and found himself looking up at a young handsome man with skin the colour of roasted coffee.

“Thank you for having me.” Charles replied, bowing his head slightly.

“It’s our pleasure, Master Xavier. We don’t get many guests of your caliber out here.” The young man grinned. “My name is Darwin, I manage the estate for Mr. Lehnsherr. Please, let me show you to your room, you must be tired from your journey.”

Darwin was a gracious and attentive host. Charles’ room was ready for his use: fire lit, bed turned down, curtains open to let in light. Within moments of his bags arriving, a young maid arrived with sandwiches and tea, a steaming pot of his special blend which Sean must have rushed to the kitchens immediately upon their arrival. 

Darwin offered to give Charles a tour of the house and the estate after Charles had a moment to eat, but Charles politely declined. Though he did very much want to see the house, meet the staff and generally better understand Graymalkin Estate, Charles knew his best course of action after a brief refreshment was to stretch his legs through walking. He took his time with the sandwiches though; they were delicious and he was famished. He also drank an entire pot of tea, thankful beyond words for the comfort the familiar flavour brought at such a difficult time.

The sun hung low in the sky by the time Charles roused himself from the comfort of his chair and wandered out onto the grounds of the estate. After months in London, the landscape around him seemed terribly green, almost too saturated with colour to be real. It was beautiful: the sights, the smells, the sounds. Every bit of it.

Charles grit his teeth as he continued to explore the grounds of the estate, refusing to let the sharp pains in his hip stop him from exploring. He ducked his head under low hanging branches, stepped his way down stone pathways, and revelled in his solitude.

“You Lehnsherr’s cub?” A deep voice rang out, causing Charles to jump in shock.

“Pardon me?” Charles asked, fighting against a wince as he turned and pain shot up his spine. 

“You must be.” The man grunted. “Figures Lehnsherr would get himself a cub that needed tending, the man loves a problem to solve, or a poor soul to rescue.”

“I am not sure I understand what you are insinuating.” Charles said, puzzled.

Who was this man, with his well worn clothes and casual manner? How did he know Erik? Why did he think Charles was a ‘cub’? What did that term even mean?

“You are Lehnsherr’s omega, right kid?” Charles nodded slowly. “Right. Lehnsherr likes a project, likes to be the hero. You’re just the type he’d pick.”

“Mr. Lehnsherr had never laid eyes on me before the day we wed.” Charles retorted. “Our marriage is a business arrangement, nothing more.”

“Sure thing, kid.” The man smirked. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

“I injured my leg -” Charles stopped himself, suddenly aware he was about to reveal very personal information to a man to whom he had not even been introduced. “Who are you exactly?”

“Name’s Logan.” The other man extended his hand and Charles shook it, finding his palm lost within the other’s larger one. “Groundskeeper.”

“And you know my husband. Quite well I take it.” Charles asked, unable to stop a grimace as he shifted his weight and his leg nearly buckled.

“Sit.” 

It seemed in a blink of an eye, Logan was beside him, hand on his back, guiding him to sit on the low stone wall nearby. It was a bit bumpy and more than a little damp, but Charles found he hardly cared. Taking the weight off his bad leg and easing his pain was far more important than ruining his clothing. Charles let out a sigh of relief as his pained eased off. He opened his eyes to find Logan staring down at him, his dark brows pulled down in a harsh scowl.

“That’s a lot of pain.” Logan caught his eye and held it. “What happened?”

“My step-brother spooked my horse, purposefully. I was thrown off the saddle and trampled for good measure. My step-father insisted my injury was minor, despite the fact I fainted from the pain and had to be carried to my room. Two days later, they finally called a physician.” Charles paused, startled by how much he’d revealed to a practical stranger. 

“Bunch of assholes.” Logan grunted.

“I don’t generally share that story with people.” Charles frowned.

“We’re all a bunch of broken misfits here.” Logan shrugged. “You should have the doc give it a look.”

“My leg has been examined many times, by many doctors. Another opinion seems rather pointless after all these years.” Charles said dismissively.

“Think you’ll like Dr. McCoy. He’s got lots of interesting ideas.” Logan countered.

“Dr. McCoy?” Charles frowned. “I’ve seen him in London and I -”

“We’ve got our own Dr. McCoy.” Logan cut in. “Father and son - ours is better.” Logan grinned. “Fumbles around a bit, talks too much about strange scientific ideas no one understands, but we’ve never had a man he can’t patch up.”

Charles paused and collected his thoughts. On the one hand, any hope of ‘fixing’ his leg had long since abandoned him. But, on the other, any chance he might have to make himself more independent (and perhaps, coincidentally, make himself more appealing to his husband), held quite an appeal.

“We shall invite him over then. For a luncheon, perhaps.” Charles declared and then shivered and pulled his coat more tightly around himself. 

“Better get you back to the house before you freeze to death.” Logan said, hopping off the wall and offering his arm. 

They made their way slowly back to the house. Charles was grateful for Logan’s assistance and his candor. He peppered the man with questions as they walked; about himself, about the estate, about Erik.

Perhaps here, sent away though he was, was the key to his husband’s heart. Despite he distance, despite Erik’s clear rejection, Charles could not stop his thoughts from turning to Erik. It was fast becoming clear that he had left a part of his heart in London, with his husband, pathetic as that may be. But his time in London had taught him that he was capable of more than he had thought possible. Perhaps, with great effort, he could find a way to repair the pieces of his marriage. This time, Charles refused to give up.

* * *

“How exactly is this Lehnsherr’s estate of broken souls?” Charles asked later that evening.

He was eating an informal dinner in the servants dining room with Sean, Alex, Darwin and Logan. A hearty and flavourful stew, with thick sliced bread was on offer and it settled warmly in Charles’ belly.

“Graymalkin Estate is not full of broken souls.” Darwin directed a frown at Logan, who ignored him completely.

“’Course it is.” Logan sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Lehnsherr didn’t tell you about this place before he shipped you out this way?” Charles shook his head and Logan huffed. “Thick as brick.” He muttered.

“Logan...” Darwin warned, voice low.

“What?” Logan challenged.

Charles watched eyes wide as the two men stared at each other intently.

“You think he doesn’t deserve to know?” Logan asked pointedly.

Darwin sighed and collapsed back in his chair.

“This place, this estate, it’s a stopping point. People come, they heal, they leave.” Logan explained. “A few of us, only a few, have chosen to stay.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” Charles replied, setting down his cutlery, food forgotten.

“We’re all alphas here. Former fighters in Sebastian Shaw’s fighting ring. Lehnsherr helps us escape, we come here, heal from our wounds, and leave.”

“And some of you stay.” Charles let his gaze linger on Darwin and then Logan. “And you think I am one such broken soul?” Charles asked. “Another project to fix, a body to mend?”

Logan shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You do not like my husband.” Charles stated flatly.

“I like him just fine. We don’t always see eye to eye, but we’re the same he and I: we’re survivors.” Logan said.

“You both hate Shaw.” Charles commented, piecing together the bits of their shared history.

“We do.” Logan’s grin was feral.

“He is a man worthy of hatred.” Darwin added. 

Charles was surprised to see the young man, whom he had thought was quite mild mannered, scowling fiercely. He had little knowledge of Shaw himself, other than that he himself had almost been married off to the man. A man, who by all recent accounts, appeared to be a true villain.

“My family was planning to marry me off to Mr. Shaw.” Charles commented, unthinking, as he took a sip of his tea. “I had thought I was fortunate when Mr. Lehnsherr interfered, but it seems I was more than simply fortunate.”

“Your family...” Darwin trailed off, looked horrified.

“I believe that was their plan.” Charles replied. “They were not particularly forthcoming, it was in their best interest for me to remain unawares.”

“You don’t seem particularly upset, Master Xavier. About your family’s schemes.” Darwin replied tentatively.

“If you’d met my family, you would not be surprised, either, Darwin.” Charles grimaced.

“Lehnsherr did the right thing.” Logan said firmly. “Marrying you. Keeping you from Shaw.”

“He certainly did!” Darwin nodded vigorously. “And you will be safe here as well.”

Alex and Sean nodded along with Darwin, affirming his statement, while Logan grunted and shovelled a spoon full of stew in his mouth. Charles felt warmth blossom in his chest.

“Thank you, gentlemen.” Charles smiled. “I do appreciate your loyalty, though I would hope here, in the quiet of the countryside, protection will not be needed. I was rather hoping tomorrow we might complete that tour you offered – if time permits you, Darwin?”

“It would be my pleasure, Master Xavier.”

* * *

Raven crept by Erik’s office, noted the flicking lamp light creeping from under the door. It seemed it was yet another night where Erik would lock himself away, plotting and planning and refusing to rest, acting as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

Raven was familiar with Erik’s determination, his refusal to give in, or give up. But this… this was different, and concerning. Erik had slept the past three nights in his office. He looked ragged and worn. He was skipping meals. He was short with the staff: argumentative and critical. Raven knew this side of Erik; riding a thin line between focus and obsession. She’d been able to draw him back from the edge in the past, but this time he’d closed himself off from her and everyone else.

With a heavy sigh, Raven eased her way down the corridor to the townhouse, slipping herself into Moira’s office almost soundlessly.

“He’s locked himself away.” Raven reported as she sat down.

“Has he eaten today?” Moira asked.

“His plates remain mostly untouched. He has had coffee. A few bites of bread. Little else.”

“His is impossible.” Moira declared. “This entire situation is impossible. He should never had sent Master Xavier away! Has he no idea what he’s done?”

“He thinks he is doing what needs to be done to keep his husband safe.” Raven answered.

“Master Xavier may be safe in the country, but Mr. Lehnsherr is hardly safe here.” Moira said with a shake of her head. “They are practically bonded; a bonded alpha does not fare well without his mate.” 

“Mr. Lehnsherr is going to work himself half to death at this rate.” Raven added.

“Or attempt a truly ill conceived plan to defeat Mr. Shaw.” Moira frowned deeply. “We must temper him. Somehow.”

“When have we ever been able to rein the man in?” Raven arched a brow.

“Then we shall have to hope the pull of his bond with Master Xavier is stronger than his desire for vengeance against Sebastian Shaw.”

* * *

“They are invisible to the eye you say?” Charles leaned forward, captivated.

“Yes, yes, Master Xavier. Invisible to the naked eye, but documented by several scientists using a microscope. It is possible that many illness – smallpox, measles, dysentery, even the plague, could be spread by these tiny animacules!”

“Fascinating.” Charles breathed out. “Absolutely fascinating.”

Dr. McCoy, or Hank as he had asked Charles to call him, was far younger than Charles had expected him to be. He was also brilliant. He seemed barely older than Charles himself, and he was suffused with an enthusiasm for science unlike any Charles had ever had the good fortune to meet. They had spent most of the morning talking about science, philosophy and medicine. 

“You would have thrived at Oxford, or Cambridge. You have such a mind, Master Xavier.” Hank smiled shyly.

Charles felt his cheeks flush and his stomach twist painfully.

“I should have loved an academic life. Alas, it was not possible.” Charles shook his head sadly. “In another life perhaps we could have attended together, two students of science.”

“If I may call again, I could bring some of my books...” Hank offered.

“I would be most grateful for new reading material.” Charles smiled.

“However, before I take me leave, I should examine your leg.” Hank said hesitantly. “I understand your reluctance, I do, but we will not know if there is something to be done if I do not examine you.”

Charles bit back any protests, though he dearly would have liked to voice them. However, Hank was sincere in his desire to help, Charles knew. It was best to have this entire examination over and done, neither Hank, nor Logan, were likely to let the matter rest until Charles submitted.

Charles striped himself down as swiftly as he could and lay down on the bed, letting his mind drift and his eyes gaze out the window as Hank poked, prodded and moved his leg about. There was pain, as there always was. Discomfort as well. Charles ignored it all, giving himself over to the memories he had tried so desperately to block out these past few days. The memory of Erik’s voice; deep and rich. The shock of his first touch, when he had saved Charles from his fall down the stairs. That first whiff of his scent; even then, when Erik had been a stranger, it had been overwhelming, intoxicating, irresistible. Was it any wonder Charles’ heart still pounded frantically in his chest at every thought, every reminder of Erik? That the pain in his heart was far more wrenching than the pain in his leg?

“Master Xavier? Master Xavier? Charles?” 

Charles startled as Hank’s voice suddenly cut through his clouded, maudlin thoughts.

“My apologies Hank, I fear my mind ran away from me for a time.” Charles pulled himself back to the present and gave Hank a sheepish smile. “What is your assessment?”

“I’m sorry, Charles.” Hank said, defeat written clearly on his face. “I can recommend some exercises for strengthening your leg, however, the damage has been done. Whoever set your leg should have his medical license revoked – I have never laid eyes on shoddier work.” Hank frowned. “I do wish I could look inside, to see what was done wrong, but I can hardly recommend surgery to reopen your wound with no guarantee of lessening your pain.”

“Perhaps someday you will invent such a device. I cannot even imagine how valuable it would be for the medical profession to peer inside the body with no harm to the patient.” Charles suggested and he pushed himself up on the bed. “If anyone can succeed, it is you my friend. You’ve such an impressive mind.”

Hank flushed scarlet at Charles’ complimentary tone and Charles was struck yet again at how young the beta was, how innocent. Despite his obvious skills, Charles could not help but think it was best he practiced here in the country, away from the scheming minds in London.

“Are you disappointed?” Hank asked.

“No.” Charles sighed. “My disappointment over my injury has long since passed. My life has been altered, but it is hardly over. I can do most everything, with a little extra effort at times.”

Dressed and presentable, Charles led Hank down the stairs. They said their goodbyes and exchanged promises to meet again soon. Charles was very much looking forward to another discussion with someone his age, with like minded interests and a curious soul.

As Hank stepped out the door and Logan lead his horse over to him, Charles thought it might be time for him to live the words he had said to Hank earlier. He was free here. There was no one to control him, deny him, or watch over his every move. Perhaps it was time to try new things, maybe even some old ones he had been avoiding for years.

Charles found himself moving forward almost without thinking.

“Logan! Would you happen to have a horse I could ride?”

* * *

“What have you found?”

Raven looked over at her boss, the lines on his forehead, the dark circles under his eyes, and wondered if he had slept at all last night. It was unlikely.

“Our network reports Shaw has been quiet. His club runs as usual, but his other activities have slowed. He’s gone to ground, keeping himself and his business all above board.” Raven reported.

Shaw’s actions were uncharacteristic and frustrating. He was not a man who liked to keep himself out of the limelight, nor take actions that would decrease his profits. However, everything now pointed to him doing just that. Generally it took very little effort on the part of their spy network to stall a delay of smuggled liquor, intervene on a possible business investment, or discover an illegal fighting ring and rescue fighters. Now, the spy network, and even the rumours, had run dry.

“He is stalling, preparing, hiding.” Erik muttered. “Plotting and scheming against me.”

“That may be true, Erik, but you can hardly meet his challenge in this state.” Raven argued. “You are barely eating, you look dead on your feet. You must rest.”

“I will rest when we have discovered what Shaw is plotting.” Erik spat out.

“Then eat.” Raven insisted. “Please, eat.”

Raven pushed a plate with a steaming meat pie toward Erik. It was simple, but hearty fare. It was also very well spiced.

Raven watched, keeping her expression casual as Erik took a few bites of the food. She spoke, meaningless conversation about the club, the staff, the weather; anything to keep Erik distracted and eating.

When Erik’s head began to droop, and his eyes fluttered closed, she was ready. Calling in several members of staff, she had Erik carried up to his room and laid carefully in his bed, with Moira hovering by her shoulder.

“He’ll sleep?” Moira asked, wringing her hands.

“He’ll sleep.” Raven confirmed. “For how long, I cannot be certain.”

“I can scarcely believe we succeeded.” Moira said, voice wavering. “We should not have done it. He’ll uncover our actions and that will be the end of us.”

“Regretting our choice to dose Mr. Lehnsherr?” Raven arched a brow. “I am not concerned. If he asks what happened, we’ll tell him he fell asleep in his office, we found him, and brought him to his room. He won’t know.” Raven assured her. “Besides, we agreed; if he didn’t rest he’d either collapse, or drive us all to madness.”

“I hope we have made the best choice.” Moira said fervently.

* * *

His time at Graymalkin Estate was beyond pleasant, it had a feeling to it that Charles could not describe with words. The place had become a type of refuge from the ache in his heart; a heart that felt like it was missing a key component. On the estate, Charles had to unique experience of having only himself to focus on. Darwin was a more than capable stewart and had the day to day running of the estate well in hand. He was happy to speak with Charles about ideas for the estate and had been accepting of Charles looking over the books, but he had no need for Charles to take things over.

With no estate to run and no husband to please, Charles was left at loose ends.

He found himself exploring the estate and finding work where it pleased him. He worked in the garden and the greenhouse with Sean, planting new herbs, vegetables and strawberries. He went to the stables daily to see Logan and the horses, determined to overcome his fear. It had been years since he’d been thrown, and the accident had not been the result of poor skill on his part, but rather the underhanded nature of his step brother.

Despite his gruff nature, Logan had been patient; guiding Charles slowly and carefully. They had begun by feeding the horses, then brushing them, and then leading them around the paddock, walking beside them, reins in hand. Only today, after a week’s work, had Logan assisted him onto the gentlest mare, walking beside them as Charles took his first tentative ride on a horse in years. To say he felt thrilled at his success did not do the experience justice. When he had laughed, his joy uncontained and let free, even Logan had smirked along with him.

There was a unity at Graymalkin. It was found in the small staff, and the dinners in the servant’s dining hall, right next to the kitchen. Charles played cards with Darwin, Alex, and Sean by candle light in the evenings. He ran through his exercises each morning under Logan’s watchful eye. He rambled through the countryside on walks and read books in the small, but well stocked library.

He was surprised to find Alex and Darwin were mated, though both were alphas. Such a pairing was rare, but after dining with them and seeing the clear proof of their love and devotion to one another, Charles found himself simply happy that they had one another. London society would frown on their mating; they would produce no children of their own, and the question of inheritance would be muddled and confused, it simply would not occur in the peerage. Here in the gardens of Kent however, their love blossomed. 

When he had a moment to ponder it, Charles wondered if his husband had sent Alex Summers here as both a bodyguard and to allow the man the chance to see his husband once more. It seemed a soft and sensitive gesture, and yet Charles could believe it. Not matter the hurt Erik had caused him, he could not dismiss his fundamental belief that his husband was a good man.

In an effort to thank everyone for welcoming him so warmly, Charles had offered to teach them all to play chess. In a matter of days most of the staff had tried, and promptly quit. The only one that remained was Logan. He was a terrible student, far too easily frustrated and quick to anger. He’d toppled the board, throwing the pieces to the floor in a pique of fit at least half a dozen times in the last week. Charles found he had enough patience for them both, and he enjoyed Logan’s stories. Logan had lived such an interesting life: born in the colonies, working aboard a trading vessel, traveling the world. His unfortunate capture by Shaw had been a significant trial, but certainly not the only misadventure Logan had lived through. He was endlessly fascinating to a sheltered young man such as himself.

This morning, Charles had woken early, as the first pale beams of sunlight graced the floor of his room. Hank was visiting today. He had sent a note three days prior, with a stack of books for Charles to read, and Charles could not wait to see his newfound friend. He’d read through half the books Hank had sent his way already and had a list of questions at the ready for discussion.

Much to Betty, the cook’s, annoyance, he hovered over her as she prepared scones and tea, insisting she make a pot of his special blend to share with Hank. Surely Hank would appreciate his love of the stuff; perhaps they could even spend some time determining its composition. 

In the end he simply could not contain his excitement. He exited the house and paced the length of the drive, knowing he was being ridiculous. He endured Logan’s teasing when he walked by, giving him as sunny smile and rattling on about the lovely weather. Logan rolled his eyes, called him ‘impossible’ and moved along to the stables.

When he spotted Hank riding down the drive a few minutes later, Charles managed to keep himself from hopping up and down like a child, settling for a friendly wave instead.

As soon as Hank dismounted, they chatted away animatedly, and Charles was left to wonder how it was he had spent all the years of his life without this treasure of friendship. Conversation flowed easily between them, their mutual excitement over scientific discoveries pouring out as if they had both been holding it in and waiting for this very moment to finally release their thoughts.

When Sean arrived with the tray of tea and scones, Charles smiled with newfound enthusiasm.

“You must try this Hank!” He offered, pouring his special blend in a cup for his friend. “It is my favourite blend and I fear everyone is always turning their noses up at it. I feel you, my friend, may be just the person to appreciate it with me.” Charles finished with a flourish.

“I cannot imagine I will not like it.” Hank smiled taking a sip from his cup.

Much to Charles’ dismay, Hank sputtered and coughed, his cup tipping over in his haste to put it down.

“All you alright, my friend?” Charles rushed to Hank’s side, prepared to give him blows to the back if needed.

Hank held up a hand as he continued to cough and Charles sat back down, though he could not relax until Hank finally cleared his throat and met his gaze.

“How long have you been drinking this tea, Charles?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all so much for reading and sticking with me and this fic.
> 
> All comments and kudos are treasured and certainly help this writer stay motivated.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware this chapter does contain a scene of rape/non-con. It is short, but somewhat graphic. It is in the second half of the chapter. If this is something you would prefer to skip over, skip over the section that begins "There wasn't enough air." Read at your own risk!

* * *

“Doctor McCoy, Doctor McCoy!”

Charles hurried as quickly as he possibly could, descending the stairs toward the side garden at a speed that made his leg ache. Unfortunately, Dr. McCoy had the head start and the longer stride.

“Dr. McCoy!” Charles tried again. “Hank!”

The doctor paused and turned to look at back wide-eyed, as if he was startled the Charles was even there.

“Where are you going?” Charles asked, arms waving. “Please, come back inside.”

“But, but… I’m looking for the plant, the herb… the thing from your tea.” Dr. McCoy replied, gesturing behind him. “I’m sure I’ve seen it in the garden. Or perhaps near the garden, it is more of a weed.”

“Nothing is wrong with my tea – I have been drinking the stuff every day for years!” Charles protested.

“Exactly!” Hank retorted. “I cannot even imagine how you ever began drinking such a thing.”

“The doctor who set my leg recommended the blend for pain relief.” Charles offered, still completely puzzled by Dr. McCoy’s reaction to the tea. 

Charles was mystified by the entire affair.

“The doctor?” Hank stood frozen in place. “The doctor recommended the tea? A doctor?”

Charles nodded. The doctor who had treated his injury all those years ago had been rather elderly, and Charles suspected he was also half-blind, but he’d served the village for generations and the Markos had called for him specifically. Charles had not had any say in the matter.

“It helped with the pain.” Charles repeated.

“It would.” Hank nodded. “But to give it to an omega… how old were you?”

“I was fifteen at the time of the accident.” Charles replied stiffly.

“Had you had your first heat?” Hank asked absently, his attention half fixed on the shrubs and weeds surrounding the garden.

“Yes.” Charles ground out, his face flaming.

To be discussing such a sensitive, personal topic out here, in the open, made Charles wish the ground might swallow him whole. He had kept this part of himself, this aspect of his defective nature so secret, so hidden, it had taken the Markos an age to realize the issue. Now, it seemed Hank would discover his secret in a matter of moments after only a few shorts days of acquaintance. How terribly embarrassing. 

“And have you had a heat since you’ve been drinking the tea?” Hank asked, looking up from his search.

Charles felt the heat of his flush travel down his throat and he clenched his hands at his sides. The shame of it all.

“Back off doc.” Logan grumbled, his large form blocking Hank from Charles’ view. “You okay, kid?”

Charles peeked up at Logan, his expression pained, yet thankful.

“I shall be perfectly fine.” Charles answered. 

“Could you answer my question, Charles?” Hank peered over Logan’s shoulder. “When was your last heat?”

“Shut it.” Logan snarled, lunging toward Hank. “You don’t go around asking an omega about his heats, you idiot. Don’t they teach you anything in those fancy doctor schools?”

Hank stepped back, clearly afraid of Logan’s anger.

“Leave the good doctor be, Logan.” Charles said quietly, but with authority. “Though, I would prefer to have this conversation in a more private setting.”

Charles turned and began walking back to the house, finding comfort in the fact that Logan matched him stride for stride, a strong, companionable presence at his side. Hank trailed along behind them, and when Charles stopped at the top of the stairs before entering the house to look back, Hank was digging through the bushes near the side of the stairs.

“Aha!” Hank cried. “This is it – red raspberry leaf!”

Charles looked at Hank and the rather insignificant looking plant in his grip. Was that really the cause of his secret defect? Was so much grief, anguish and worry caused by such a small thing?

“Let us go to the sitting room.” Charles instructed, suddenly exhausted, but determined. “It seems we have quite a bit to discuss.”

* * *

In the past week, Logan had decided the Charles Xavier was the kind of young man that was impossible not to like and admire. Logan was not an easy man to impress, and yet, Charles had done it. 

Logan found he now looked forward to working with Charles in the garden, since for some reason the young man insisted that he and Sean assist Logan every morning. Every other day, Charles joined Logan in the stables, determined to overcome his fear. Charles and Logan’s gentlest grey mare had now formed a bond, giving Charles the confidence to leave the paddock for the first time and ride down the drive just yesterday. Charles even continued to attempt to teach him chess, though Logan knew the cause was hopeless. He went every night nonetheless.

Logan couldn’t deny he felt a certain protectiveness toward the kid. He spent at least half his evenings cursing Erik Lehnsherr for being an idiot for sending his husband away when the young omega was clearly in love with him. He spent the rest of his evenings secretly enjoying Charles’ attempts to teach him chess and feeling secure in the knowledge that Charles was safe here at Graymalkin estate. Here Logan could watch him, Darwin could spar with him, Betty could feed him and they could all watch the colour return to his cheeks as Charles spent time outdoors, exploring the countryside. Logan knew Erik had genuine concerns about Charles’ safety, but with both Logan and Darwin being former fighters in Shaw’s alpha fighting ring, and Alex, one of Lehnsherr’s security team, all at the estate, Charles safety seemed practically guaranteed.

At least Charles’ physical safety seemed assured. Logan did not feel quite so confident about his emotional well being.

Logan wouldn’t call himself the most perceptive man, he tended to run on a potent mix of instinct, anger, and indifference. Today, though, even he could tell the room was full of tension. Dr. McCoy kept talking, rambling on about some herb or another and its harmful effect on omegas, while Charles stood, back ramrod straight, facing the window, not saying a word.

“Master Xavier?” Dr. McCoy spoke up, shattering the tense silence in the room. “What will you do?”

The doctor’s question was more than fair. As far as Logan understood it, the young master had been drinking this tea – a special blend that contained an herb that often diminished or halted an omega’s heat – for the past eight years since the accident that injured his leg. Master Xavier was so fond of the tea and drank it in such large quantities, that he had not experienced a heat since before the accident, his first and only heat at the age of fifteen. 

Master Xavier had believed his lack of heats to be a horribly unfortunate side effect of his ‘fall’ off his horse, but it was obvious now, after Dr. McCoy’s discovery, that this was not the case.

Logan clenched his fists tightly. Charles’ ‘family’ seemed like nothing better than a pack of scheming vultures. They’d mistreated him, neglected him, and sold him off like nothing more than a possession. If Logan ever saw either of the Markos he was certain he would take great pleasure in pummeling them to a pulp.

“My advice is to stop drinking the tea.” Dr. McCoy ventured. “You will likely feel… unwell. Your body has become accustomed to having this herb with great regularity. However, I feel the sooner you stop, the more likely your heats will return.”

“They might not?” Logan asked before he could stop himself.

It was horrifying to imagine a young man like Xavier, so intelligent, so thoughtful, so kind, would have to live a life without children simply because of one doctor’s ignorant choice and Charles’ own misfortune to have enjoyed the tea so much he continued to drink it for years. 

“It is difficult to say.” Dr. McCoy answered hesitantly. “My knowledge of omega’s using this herb, is mostly those who… it is omegas who may use their...”

“Whores.” Logan supplied. “No unwanted welps.”

“Yes, well, that is one way to phrase it.” Logan smirked as the good doctor flushed and frowned. “There are cases where omega’s who have used the herb over long periods have not regained their heat. However, those omega’s do not generally ingest the herb as a tea – but rather in a purer form, chewing it like tobacco. I cannot possibly predict what will happen in this case.”

“You say I may feel unwell.” Charles spoke softly, still gazing out the window. “What does that entail?”

“There are accounts of omegas becoming ill – vomiting, shaking, sweating.” Dr. McCoy reported frankly. “Most report a deep desire to take the herb again. And for those who’s heats do return… the first heat is very intense, often almost unbearably so. It is as if all the heats you have missed strike at once. We will have to monitor you closely – though all the alphas will need to keep as much distance as possible.”

“We can’t leave the estate unprotected.” Logan said, pining the doctor with a look that he hoped said ‘we are not leaving Master Xavier unprotected.’ Logan was not about to leave Charles alone in such a vulnerable state, and he felt sure Darwin and Alex would feel the same.

“How long will it take for my heats to return, if they do return?” Charles questioned.

“I cannot say.” Dr. McCoy replied apologetically. “They may return quickly, within a fortnight, or it may take several months.”

Silence descended once more. Logan and Dr. McCoy exchanged a series of tense worried glances, while Charles stood, back to the room, contemplating his decision.

Logan couldn’t stop his thoughts from churning, wondering how he, Darwin, and Alex, all alphas, could protect Charles when his heat struck. There was a groundskeeper’s cottage in the woods behind the house, the alphas could stay there, but it was farther from the main estate, and Charles, then Logan liked. They could perhaps rotate through shifts, one man assigned to guard the house for eight hours at a time, or they could set up some sort of temporary shelter closer to the house…

“I will stop.” Charles turned toward them, a determined expression set on his face. “As of this moment, I shall stop consuming the tea. If there is any chance…” Logan watched Charles wring his hands, betraying his true emotions. “If there is any possibility that my heats may return, that I would be able to bare children, I must try.”

Logan saw the doctor smile, followed immediately by a furrowed brow as he processed the information. Just as Dr. McCoy opened his mouth, no doubt to talk Master Xavier’s ear off about his health, Logan piped up.

“We’ll all be here for you, kid.” He said reaching out and laying his hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Whatever happens, it’ll be fine.”

Logan was relieved to see Charles respond with a tremulous smile.

* * *

Erik felt as if he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. He was restless, constantly. If he wasn’t actively engaged in securing the club and the townhouse, or trying to discover Shaw’s next move against him, all he seemed to be able to do was pace. He paced his office. He paced through the club. He paced through the halls of the townhouse at night and hardly ever slept. He had accepted, begrudgingly, that Moira and Raven were dosing him with laudanum at least twice a week, but he could hardly protest; those were the only nights he was not restless. They were the only nights he did not toss and turn and yearn for Charles. They were the only nights he slept for longer than an hour or two. 

If his well meaning staff had not drugged him, he likely would have left London in the dead of night ages ago, stealing away to the country to reunite with his husband. 

As it was he stared at the parchment in front of him and threw it in the fire, where it joined at least a dozen similar letters in burning to ash. Charles had written him two letters thus far, one for each week he’d been in the country. His husband had a way with words; his letters painted a picture of bucolic bliss. It was easy for Erik to read them by the fire in the evenings and imagine Charles roaming the hills of his estate, his cheeks rosy with exertion, safe under the watchful eye of several ex-fighters from Shaw’s alpha fighting ring.

He found himself unable to write anything in reply, despite many attempts. He missed Charles. He ached for him. Each time he sat down to write his husband a perfunctory letter he wound up pouring out his heart, confessing his desire for his omega and practically begging for forgiveness. Clearly, none of those missives could be sent. They were nothing but tinder for the fire.

“Sir?”

Erik turned from his writing to spy Raven at the door. He motioned her forward and leaned back to listen to the evening report.

“There has been no sign of the Markos. It would appear they have received our message clearly. Our informants report they have not been seen on the premises of Shaw’s club since the attack.”

Erik merely nodded. It was a relief to hear that the Markos had not approached Shaw again, though Erik had always doubted they would have the guts to try to attack Charles again. Their attempt had failed so miserably and wounded their pride to such a degree, it appeared they had fled, tails tucked between their legs.

“And Shaw?” Erik asked.

“He has taken no action. He attended a soiree held by Lord Warrington, the Duke of Ware, last evening. Apparently the Duke invited several men of business and industry. He is reported to have loudly bemoaned your absence.”

“I did make him a great deal of money on an investment last autumn.” Erik murmured.

“Our sources say Shaw was quite enraged when he arrived back at his club.” Raven continued.

Erik shrugged. His success in the field of investments far outstripped Shaw. Erik had not limited himself to earning money solely through the club for quite some time. He now had dealings with many other businessmen in London and a fair number of the peerage as well. His reputation for having a nose for a good investment had spread slowly, but his continued success guaranteed high demand for his services. He had kept his business dealings quiet, using a great deal of his funds outside of London and out from under Shaw’s curious eyes.

“And the fighters? Was our mission a success?” 

“The doctor saw them. They have all been tended to and well fed.”

“Excellent.” Erik let out a breath. “When Shaw’s attentions are not so fixed on myself, the club, and Charles, we will plan for another ‘escape’. It is far too risky now.”

Erik let his mind wander, plotting and planning yet another rescue of Shaw’s mistreated fighters.

“And Master Xavier, sir? He is well?” Raven asked, her chin held high as if daring him to object to her question.

“He is well. Surely Moira has shared his letter.”

Raven ignored his last comment and pressed on. “And you, sir? Are you well?”

Erik glowered at his head of security. She knew him far too well, and she was the only one to whom he had openly admitted his weakness. And yet… and yet to say the words aloud seemed impossible, they stuck in his throat as if clawing to escape, but he choked them down through sheer force of will.

“I am fine.”

* * *

“He has been working behind my back!” Sebastian threw his glass across the room. “For years!” He swiped his arm across he desk and scattered it’s contents to the floor. “The peerage is mine for the taking, not his. How they can work with gutter scum such as that man is beyond comprehension.”

Emma stood still in the face of Shaw’s anger, and knew that the man beside her, Azazel, Shaw’s head of security would do the same. They had both been the victims of far worse than this evening’s outburst.

“He should be kissing the ground at my feet. Licking my boots.” Shaw muttered, pacing the room. “I pulled that boy out of filth and made him into a man and this is how he repays me? Ungrateful bastard.”

Emma glanced over at Azazel and he arched a brow in response. Nothing good ever came of the occasions when Shaw felt belittled by Lehnsherr.

“I want that man out of London by the end of the month.” Shaw ordered. “Do you understand? You are to use whatever tools you need; bribery, coercion, force. I want that infernal club of his left open and vulnerable. I will tear down everything he has worked so hard for and burn it to the ground until nothing is left and no one, no one, will ever remember the name Erik Lehnsherr.”

* * *

Charles thought he had an idea of what he choice would entail. He would be uncomfortable without his tea. It would be bothersome. He conceded that he might complain, though he vowed to do his best not to bother the staff any more than usual. He set up his room with books to read, paper to write letters, and asked for a fresh pitcher of water to be delivered at regular intervals. He thought he was well prepared for how his body would react.

He was, in fact, not at all ready.

Charles moaned on his bed and squinted his eyes at the offending beam of sunlight pouring in from the window. He rolled himself off the side of the bed and laid himself flat on the floor, thankful to feel the cool and smooth surface beneath him. 

It offered only momentary relief. The burning, the aching in his stomach, the spasming of his muscles all returned with a full force within minutes. Charles moaned again and reached desperately for the pitcher of water on the table above him. It tumbled down and drenched him; what a happy coincidence.

He had stopped drinking his tea five days prior. His body had revolted immediately, refusing to keep down any food for two days. Then, when Charles finally had success in eating broth and bread, the shaking began, his muscles trembling and twitching in such intensity that Charles could not hold a cup without spilling, and could barely walk without toppling over. This morning, the burning had appeared; suffusing him with sweat and an unbearable heat.

He lay in the puddle on the floor, in nothing but his bedshirt, eyes closed, hoping the incredible heat might finally leave him be.

“Master Xavier?” A tentative voice called out.

Charles moaned turning his head and opening his eyes to see a pair of polished shoes on the other side of the bed.

“Here.” He replied weakly.

The shoes moved. Charles closed his eyes and waited.

“Master Xavier!” Charles could hear Sean’s concern. “I will fetch Dr. McCoy, sir. Would you like assistance to get back into bed, sir?”

“No.” Charles mumbled. “Too hot.”

“You’re too hot, sir?”

“Bed’s too hot. Floor’s better.”

“I’ll be back sir, I promise.” Sean said as Charles heard his footsteps retreat.

Charles stayed still and enjoyed the sensation of a slight chill from the water pooling around his head and torso. Perhaps this was the relief he needed, perhaps, finally, he might find some peace.

* * *

“What’s wrong with him?” Sean asked, his voice a frantic whisper in Hank’s ear. “He’s not in heat is he?”

“No.” Hank replied, kneeling down to touch Charles’ forehead, only to be swatting at as Charles moaned and turned away from his touch. “It is his body’s response to the herb, or the lack of it in this case.”

“He’s not in heat? Or nearing one?” Sean queried, peering over Hank’s shoulder at Charles’ red face and sweat covered brow.

“If he was in heat, or nearing one, we would smell it. Even as beta’s we would know.” Hank answered. “His symptoms are troubling. Far more intense than anything I would have expected from someone consuming the herb in a tea.”

“Logan isn’t going to be happy.” Sean commented.

Hank held in a shudder. That Logan would not be ‘happy’ was an understatement. Since Master Xavier had quit drinking his tea, Logan had been hovering like a mother hen. He knew about every morsel of food that passed Charles’ lips, or as had been the case the last few days, every piece of food he did not eat. Logan spent every night outside, sleeping beneath Charles’ window as if he feared that in addition to his ill health, Charles was also likely to be the victim of a kidnapping.

It might have been endearing had Hank not been terrified the man would chop him into pieces should anything happen to Charles. Thus far, Charles’ recovery was far too unpredictable for Hank’s liking. 

“Is there anything we can do to ease his pain?” Sean asked, clearly concerned.

Hank let out a slow breath. “Call for a bath of cool water, it should decrease Master Xavier’s discomfort. And call for Logan, he can provide assistance. I suspect Master Xavier will resist being moved.”

Hank’s theory proved to be correct. Between himself, Sean and Logan, they did managed to bathe Charles, though they themselves ended up nearly as wet as their patient. Charles fought and moaned, and though Hank did not appreciate Logan’s harsh criticisms, nor his gruff manner, he could not discount that the alpha’s strength had been invaluable. Logan had held onto Charles in a vice like grip, until the smaller man has exhausted himself. Charles now lay in bed, skin still flushed red, but finally, blessedly asleep.

Hank found himself in his room; a small but more than serviceable space Master Xavier had set up for him. The space was large enough for sleeping quarters and a small desk, so that Hank could maintain correspondence, or make notes on his patients. Until today, Hank had used the desk to make notes on Charles’ condition and maintain regular correspondence with the other doctor who serviced the local area.

After yet another day of troubling symptoms and concerning behaviour, Hank could no longer let Charles’ condition go unreported. Mr. Lehnsherr paid him to care for all members of his estate, staff and guests alike. He set pen to paper and begins to write.

* * *

There wasn’t enough air. No matter how she struggled, there wasn’t enough air. Perhaps these would be her last moments; weakly slapping at Shaw was he tightened his hands around her neck, his face contorted in rage. She’d always known he’d kill her, one way or another.

She’d hardly been naive when she had agreed to run Shaw’s brothel. She’d been hardened by a lifetime of mistreatment and indifference. Shaw had given her the chance to make a living not lying on her back, to have a roof over her head and security, without the risk of disease or an unwanted child. It had been a chance she had taken, despite the risks.

The risks were much greater than she’d ever imagined. She had not truly understood what kind of man Sebastian Shaw was, not then. She was no longer forced to sell her body, but Shaw claimed her as his property and used her as such whenever he pleased.

When Erik had escaped, she’d wondered. What was it like to be outside of Shaw’s grasp? To not worry each night what he would do to her, or the omegas in her brothel? She could hardly imagine such a luxury, but that kernel of a dream had wormed it way into her mind and could not be forgotten. She found herself willing to risk a great deal in the hopes that her dreams might one day become reality.

Just as the edges of her vision began to blur, Shaw loosen his grip and Emma gasped, sucking in as much air as her lungs could handle in greedy gulps.

“You do turn the prettiest shade of pink when I do that.” Shaw said easily, standing to pull his breeches back on.

Emma stayed silent. She couldn’t have said a word if she tried; it would likely be hours before her voice was anything more than a hoarse croak. To curry favour without words, she positioned herself artfully into a pose a displayed her assets to their full advantage. Somehow she even managed something resembling a smile.

It was imperative that she keep Sebastian as appeased as possible. His mood had been nothing other than volatile this past fortnight, first due to the insult at the soiree and now due to the lack of success in getting retribution against Lehnsherr and his club. The Coin and Dagger remained impenetrable and Lehnsherr himself had not left the premises without a guard in weeks. Sebastian’s patience was wearing thin.

Emma thought about Sebastian’s hands around her throat. She thought about her plans, her hopes and how for several years now they had rested on Erik Lehnsherr and what little information she could safely provide to him to assist in his goal to bring Sebastian, and all his business dealings, down.

Erik understood what it was like to make horrible choices, to do whatever you had to do to survive until tomorrow. He would not like her decision now, but he would understand.

When Sebastian left the room, on course to find another omega to quench his desires, Emma rose unsteadily and sat down at her writing desk. She took several deep breaths to compose herself, waiting for the shaking in her hand to stop before she picked up her quill.

_\- Your omega is at risk: protect him. The wolf is hungry for vengeance. -_

She sent the note in the usual covert manner she and Lehnsherr corresponded; leaving a candle burning in her window until one of Lehnsherr’s trusted runners came and retrieved her note the next day hidden amongst the rows of roses in Kew Garden’s, her favourite place to stroll in the city.

Though she feared Lehnsherr’s anger and disappointment, she feared Sebastian’s wrath far more. She could only hope her cryptic note would be enough to convince Lehnsherr to flee the city and leave his club unattended.

* * *

Erik received a great deal of correspondence. He had business dealings across the country, a network of spies throughout the city who kept him informed of a great variety of dealings (many of them Shaw’s, but other business rivals as well), he received reports on the latest scientific developments, and he even kept in touch with a number of Shaw’s former fighters, who were now flung across the globe, far away from their former lives.

There were certain correspondence that were bound to hold his attention more than others, of course. The one in his hand was one such letter.

“Bobby!” He called, his feet carrying him through the halls of the townhouse from his office toward his bed chamber. “Bobby!”

“Yes, sir.” Bobby skidded to the halt as he sped into the room, face flushed.

“Pack me a trunk. Enough for travel and a week besides. I am leaving forthwith.” Erik instructed.

“Of course, sir.” Bobby nodded vigorously.

“I will return in a quarter hour. My things are to be ready by that time, is that understood?”

After receiving assurance from his valet that he would be ready, Erik strode to the club in search of Raven and Angel. By happy coincidence he found Moira on the way and gathered all of them in a room to informed them of the latest development.

“You’re leaving.” Raven said flatly when Erik had finished his explanation.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Moira sighed. “Young Master Xavier needs you, sir.”

“I’ll keep everything running smoothly at the club, sir, you needn’t worry about that.” Angel promised.

“Why?” Raven questioned, eyes narrowed.

“I have received information that indicates I am needed. The distance between myself and my husband now poses a greater risk than my proximity.” Erik answered vaguely. 

Raven frowned in response, but said nothing.

“Do not let your guard down. Shaw remains in the city and he plots against us still. Guards should be posted for the club and the townhouse. Training for all security staff and any other volunteers is to continue.” Erik looked at Raven who nodded quickly. “I will return as soon as I am able, I should hope within a fortnight.”

“Have a safe journey, Mr. Lehnsherr.” Angel replied.

“Do give Master Xavier our love, sir. He has been greatly missed.” Moira added.

“We will keep things secure.” Raven added. “Take as long as is needed to ensure your omega is well and safe.”

Erik could almost hear Raven’s unspoken words: ‘Fix it. Whatever it is you have done, Erik, fix it.’

He hoped that he could. He climbed into a plain, but comfortable carriage, and set out on his journey to Graymalkin. Alone with his thoughts, Erik could not help but mull over his last days with Charles. He had pushed his omega away; out of fear of his own burgeoning feelings, and fear for Charles’ safety as Shaw’s target. He had dismissed Charles, a man he knew had experienced a lifetime of rejection at the hands of others, as quickly and cruelly as possible. He had thought it for the best; for them both. A protection against Shaw. A protection against the weakness of connection, of a true bond between alpha and omega. A bond that would at once make them strong, a true bonded pair could be an unmatched duo, but also weak, a bonded alpha had one glaring weakness – his omega. It had, at the time, seemed too great a risk.

Now, after weeks of emptiness; quiet halls, little conversation, and a cold bed, Erik was decidedly unsure. 

He was also aware that his emotions, his change of heart, would mean little if Charles would not forgive him. After his cold actions, was there any way for him to win back the affections of his omega?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Your support after the previous chapter was astounding and very much appreciated.
> 
> Life continues to be busy, but this fic remains my baby and writing has been going well recently, which makes me very happy :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once again must apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. Life and world events have made writing more difficult and I had to take a bit of a break before I found the writing groove again.
> 
> I will hopefully be back on track after this, though clearly that is difficult to promise these days!

* * *

Charles lifted his head when a dark shadow feel over the pages of his book.

“Here.” Logan muttered, cup in hand. “Drink.”

Charles smiled softly and accepted the cup, taking a deep sip of water to quench his thirst.

“You needn’t check on me so often, Logan. I am perfectly fine.”

“You were half out of your mind two days ago.” Logan scoffed. “I get to be worried. And you forget to eat and drink when you have your nose buried in a book.”

Charles couldn’t very well argue with Logan over his statement – it was the truth. He could barely remember the events of earlier this week he had been so ill. Logan and Hank reported he’d been insensate, raving, and even striking out at them when they had attempted to get him to stay in bed. Charles had not a single clear memory; his mind was nothing but a cloudy haze.

“Sit with me.” He asked Logan, gesturing to the seat beside him. “If I should eat and drink, surely you should as well.”

Logan sat with a grunt and immediately grabbed a sandwich off the tray in front of Charles; one Charles had barely touched for the last hour. Charles felt his lips curl in satisfaction as Logan ate one bite after another. Though his own appetite had not returned, Logan certainly deserved to be rewarded for all his efforts over the past week of Charles’ convalescence. 

“Eat.” Logan said between bites, holding a sandwich out toward Charles.

Charles accepted and took a small, careful bite. His stomach rolled in protest almost immediately, but he forced the morsel down nonetheless. He had lost weight again this past week as his body had shed itself of the herb he’d been consuming for years. He had to eat to regain his strength, though each nibble felt immensely effortful.

“Would you… could you tell me about how you met my husband?” Charles ventured.

“Broke me out of Shaw’s ring.” Logan grunted. “Did it himself too, reckless bastard.”

“I was under the impression alpha fighting rings were illegal and have been for many years.” Charles commented.  
“Shaw’s greased the right fingers. People look the other way for the right money, the right incentives, or the right threats. Shaw knows how to use all three. He’s been running the ring for years.”

“You and Erik were not there at the same time.”

“No.” Logan shook his head. “Lehnsherr escaped a couple of years before I showed up. I was one of the first he rescued though – his first strike back at Shaw for all he’d done. Lehnsherr’s wily and he’s been sticking thorns into Shaw’s side for years. It’s been my pleasure to help.” Logan grinned fiercely.

“Erik has been saving others for quite some time.” Charles murmured.

Yet another piece of evidence that supported Charles’ belief his husband was a good man. To have spent so many years after his own escape going back to rescue more alphas, knowing the risks, accepting them and choosing to do what was right. Erik was a brave man, though his deeds had been done in secret.

“Why do you dislike him?” Charles asked, looking over at Logan, his confusion plain on his face.

“He took me away from someone I cared about.” Logan replied, looking away. “I wanted to go back, I would have gone back…”

“Erik kept you away.”

Logan remained silent, head bowed.

“I’m sorry, my friend. I can never fully understand the pain that must have caused you.” Charles said softly, reaching forward to place a hand gently on Logan’s knee.

“He’s not a bad man.” Logan said after some minutes had past. “He has my respect. I understand him. But I can’t forgive, or forget.”

Charles let his hand rest on Logan’s still form for several moments before he leaned back. The sun was out, and though the air had the cool crisp bite of early spring, there was warmth hitting his face. He turned his face up, closed his eyes, and let himself soak up the heat.

“He doesn’t realize what he’s lost.”

Charles startled and gave Logan a puzzled looked.

“Sending you here. Abandoning you.” Logan explained.

“He didn’t -” Charles protested.

“Looks like it to me.” Logan cut in harshly.

Charles frowned and looked away. He wanted to argue. He wanted to try to defend Erik’s actions, but the truth of the matter was Erik had offered very little insight into why he had chosen to send Charles away. Charles wanted to believe he’d had good reason: there had been an attack, the Markos had threatened the security of Erik’s home and his business, of course he would want Charles, and the trouble that followed him, far away. He wanted to believe in the moments they’d had together; in the evenings over a chess board, during walks in the park, in secret halls with heated kisses. They had had something, something real and true. Erik was not Stryker. Charles repeated this to himself daily, and most times he believed it.

“I had an omega once.” Logan said, staring off at the gardens. “She was beautiful, sweet, quick witted, full of life. Like you.”

Charles felt his eyes widen when Logan’s gaze met his. Never in his life had he received such a flattering comparison. He had no idea how to react. His only impulse was to open his mouth to protest, but Logan began speaking before a word could pass his lips.

“I told her everyday – how beautiful she was, how happy she made me, how much I loved her. I would never, never have left her, or sent her away from me. Lehnsherr should have done the same. Any alpha who doesn’t treat their omega with care doesn’t deserve them.”

“You have very high standards for your fellow alphas.” Charles said simply. “Until recently, I would have told you such an alpha did not exist.”

“Maybe they don’t walk the halls of parliament and those fancy ballrooms you lords and ladies dance around, but I’ve met a few.” Logan smirked.

“You are clearly a sterling example.” Charles smiled softly.

“I hope Lehnsherr proves he’s one. Someday.” Logan said, as he stood and made his way back to his work.

Charles watched Logan’s back as he walked out of sight, heading toward the stables. He still felt Logan had judged his husband too harshly, and with too little information. Although, it was possible, even likely, that blinded by his own affection, Charles was not judging Erik harshly enough.

In spite of all his troubled and conflicting thoughts, Charles found one hope that stood above the rest: that he would see Erik again, soon.

* * *

It took mere hours for Erik to feel frustrated at the slow speed afforded by travel in the comfort of a sprung carriage. There was little to do but get lost in his own thoughts, most of which revolved around Charles. 

He twisted the letter in his hands, flipping it over and over, running his fingers along the edges. He’d read it in such haste, and left with an equal amount of urgency. He felt it still: the pounding of his blood in his ears, the tension in his muscles, the desire to hop out of the carriage and find a horse to ride and get himself to Graymalkin as swiftly as possible.

The confines of the carriage were stifling. Erik could not help but wonder how wretched this journey must have been for Charles; stuck for hours, unable to move his leg, the pain he must have endured. His stomach clenched at the thought. Regret flooded him for a moment, before he gritted his teeth and tamped it down. He didn’t have the time for second guessing his decision a fortnight ago, and he isn’t about to let himself question his choices now.

“Did my son provide much insight into your omega’s illness?”

Erik started slightly at the sound of a voice cutting through the cloud of his own troubled thoughts. Dr. McCoy was seated across from him, bundled in blankets to keep the chill from settling in. They’d been stopping at every inn along their journey to get food and warm drink for the doctor, his age preventing him from traveling without a generous number of comforts. Erik was cursing his presence fiercely, though he had no one to blame but himself. Intense worry over Charles’ health and wellbeing had lead him to Dr. McCoy’s door, and his insistence on having a second doctor ready to give a second opinion if needed (and a subtle threat to never use Dr. McCoy’s services again should he not comply with Erik’s demands) had been enough to get the good doctor in the carriage with him.

“He did not.”

“Hmm.” Dr. McCoy murmured. “That boy still has much to learn. Not to worry Mr. Lehnsherr, I’m sure I can resolve things swiftly once we arrive.”

Erik held in a harsh retort. He did not share Dr. McCoy’s optimism. Hank would not have written him a missive at all unless Charles’ health was truly dire. Erik had left clear instructions for Hank and all the staff at Graymalkin not to contact him unless Charles’ safety was at risk. He had sent Alex and Sean to the estate to provide added security against Shaw. As usual, all his instincts had screamed that Sebastian Shaw was their greatest threat.

To find Charles had been struck down by a mysterious illness that was not responding to treatment, despite Hank’s excellent skills, was completely unexpected. He didn’t want to dwell on the topic a moment longer than necessary.

“Are you warm enough, Dr. McCoy?” He asked. 

“I shall persevere, Mr. Lehnsherr.” Dr. McCoy declared. “It is frustrating the limits the body presents to us with age, not that a young man such as yourself could understand.”

“I believe we are within an hour of our evening accommodation.” Erik offered.

In all fairness, he was looking forward to stopping at the inn as soon as possible as well, though not for the same reasons as the good doctor. He wanted warmth and a hot meal as well, but what he truly desired was privacy. The chance to be alone in a room, with the light of a candle by which he could re-read Charles’ last letter. He had yet to find any hidden clues of an impending illness, but he was not willing to stop trying.

* * *

The sound of a carriage on the drive caused Charles to lift his head from his book. The arrival of any sort of guest was very unexpected. It had been weeks since anyone had come to the estate and even before Charles’ illness, Hank had been the only person to come down the drive, and he had always come on horseback.

Charles watched the carriage as it progressed, frozen on the spot. He saw Logan, Darwin, and Alex storm out of the house, no doubt ready to protect the estate at all costs. Even before the carriage came to a stop, before the door opened to reveal its passenger, Charles knew, somehow, he knew.

“Master Xavier?” A voice interrupted only minutes later.

Charles turned to look at Sean, standing in the doorway, apprehension written clearly on his face.

“My husband has arrived?” Charles asked softly.

“He is, sir. We’ve put his bags in his rooms. They have a door that adjoins to yours…”

As they were married, the door was only to be expected. In fact, it was entirely appropriate.

“Yes, of course, Sean. Thank you for letting me know. I should like a moment alone. If you could please inform my husband I will down shortly.”

“Yes, Master Xavier.” Sean nodded, turning to leave as Charles let his head fall down to the table.

Erik was here. He’d come.

But why? Charles had wanted him, had dreamt of him most nights, had wondered how he could live his life without the prospect of feeling Erik’s lips against his own, as least one more time. Now Erik was here, but Charles could not imagine why. They had been apart barely a month. Surely Erik could not have recovered from his injury and successfully eliminated the threat from Shaw in such a short time. 

Charles straightened himself and stood, staring, eyes unseeing out the window. He took time to calm himself, waiting until his breathing was even and his hands had stopped trembling. It was important he prepare himself for the truth: that Erik’s arrival had nothing to do with him and that any hope of reconciliation remained unlikely.

After one final moment, in which he built up as many walls around his heart as possible, Charles left the room.

* * *

Erik couldn’t stop himself from moving, pacing the room restlessly. Sean had informed him Charles would be down shortly and the relief he had felt knowing Charles was well enough to see him, that he wasn’t lying in bed, in great discomfort eased many of Erik’s most pressing concerns. However, as Dr. McCoy the senior was far too tired to do more than be lead to his room, and Dr. McCoy the younger had yet to make an appearance, Erik had been left on his own with nothing to do but worry. Something was not right and no one was providing him with any answers.

The sound of the door opening caused Erik to stop in his tracks. He drank in the sight of his husband like a man who’d been wandering the desert and finally found water. Charles’ scent hit his nostrils with force, and Erik had to close his eyes to steel himself against its power. He wanted, oh how he wanted, to sweep Charles up into his arms and take him to bed. He had to restrain himself, that much he’d known since he left London. Having Charles in the same room, his blue eyes as bright as ever, chipped away at his resolve, but he held fast.

“Hello husband.” Charles said, his voice flat. “Your presence is quite unexpected.”

“I received word you were unwell.” Erik replied, holding himself back, though he wanted to reach forward and touch his husband’s face, and trace the lines of the dark circles under his eyes.

“As you can see I am well. I cannot imagine you would travel all this way over concern for my well being. Surely your revenge against Sebastian Shaw is far more important.” 

“Your health and happiness is of the upmost importance to me.” Erik argued, frowning.

“What is the use of lying to me?” Charles asked, voice rising. “You sent me away. We were… we were building something – the foundation of a marriage – and you sent me away! Without a word of explanation. How does that show any regard for my happiness?”

“I felt London was too dangerous -”

“And why could you not have expressed these fears to me? We had agreed to speak openly with one another, or so I’d thought, but I see now I was a fool – you have shared as little with me as possible. You have hidden your past, your quest for vengeance, your very character from me. The man I thought I cared for… he is nothing more than an illusion.” Charles concluded bitterly.

Erik had made an attempt to hold his temper. He told himself he must understand Charles’ anger, he must be gentle, soothing, whatever he needed to be to calm his omega. Unfortunately, calm had never been an easy state for him to maintain.

“And you have been forthcoming with your past?” He asked accusingly. 

“I have no intention of hiding my past from you.” Charles retorted, his chin jutting out proudly. “You have always had me at a disadvantage: you clearly know more about me then I know about you.”

“I did not deceive you to cause you any pain.” Erik confessed stiffly.

“Banishing me from your sight was not meant to cause me pain?”

The hurt in Charles’ voice, the tension in his face and body, all of it tore at Erik’s heart. It was a novel and unexpected experience. His sleepless nights in London, his inability to relax, his obsessive thoughts that revolved around only two things: Shaw and Charles, suddenly made sense. He’d not been recovering poorly from an injury and insensed about the attack by the Markos and Shaw’s spy, he’d been missing his omega, deeply. Moira and Raven’s comments about the strength of their bond, new though it may be, suddenly rang true.

“I… apologize.” Erik said, his words ringing hollow, even to his own ears.

“You apologize?” Charles jerked back and then immediately surged forward, pressing himself into Erik’s space. “Well, I do not accept! You rejected me – just as everyone else has always done and I shall not sit back and let it happen without consequence. I am worthy of decency and respect.” Charles poked Erik in the chest with force. “You will treat me as an equal. You will show me you are an alpha worthy of my affection.”

Erik was so hypnotized by Charles’ words, his lips as he spoke, the flush of his cheeks, the blazing brightness of his eyes, that he almost took a step back when Charles moved even closer, their chests brushing. Erik could feel the heat of Charles’ breath on his chin.

“There is something between us.” Charles said softly. “It was there in London and it is here still. If we can trust one another, I think I could have a something I never thought possible.” Charles pushed himself up, hand on Erik’s chest, as he stretched up on his toes. “An alpha worthy of my love. An alpha to whom I would bond.”

Erik growled, the desire to claim Charles washing over him in waves. But with one quick touch, his fingertip lightly brushing Erik’s lips, Charles pulled back and was safely across the room, standing behind a high backed chair before Erik could think to move.

“Show me Erik.” Charles repeated.

Erik could only nod his head sharply, unable to form the words to reply. He would do whatever it took, that much he knew to be true, though he had no idea how to express it.

“I will take me leave.” Charles said, stepping toward the door. “I will be in the drawing room tomorrow morning. Dr. McCoy can be present to give credence to what ailed me. I was not ill… not precisely. And as you can see, I am hale once more.”

Erik nodded again, his tongue still far too tied to dare to speak.

“Goodbye, Erik.” Charles said.

Charles gave Erik one last look as he closed the door, and then he was gone. Erik could still feel the ghost of Charles’ finger on his lips and the heat of his hand on his chest. He could still smell his scent.

He stayed in the study for some time, unable to let himself leave while Charles’ presence still seemed to radiate throughout the space. He ate supper there. He drank tea. He walked blearily to his room some hours later, exhausted by his own thoughts, and collapsed onto the bed. He managed to pull off his boots and then crawled under the covers fully clothed. In his last moment before sleep overtook him, he smiled, pleased despite all the events of the day. He could still smell Charles, the light lemony sweetness of him. He fell into the deepest sleep he had had in weeks.

* * *

There was something in the brutality and simplicity of splitting the wood, one hard strike at a time, that focused him. It didn’t end the anger, the burning desire to set out, find the Lord Marko and his son and destroy them. It simply took all of that hatred and fixed it on the razor’s edge of the ax in his hand.

He’d thought he had some idea of the abuse Charles has suffered at the hands of his family. They had clearly neglected him, bullied him, thrust him out of society and outside of their protection when he had needed it most; Erik hated them for that alone. To discover they had failed to provide him with basic medical care and had likely been complicit in negatively affecting his health as an omega for years was more than Erik could fathom. Charles had defended them, in his own way loyal to the last, certain that neither of the Markos, or his mother, could have been aware of the effect of his daily tea drinking. Erik did not care if they had known why Charles’ heats had ended; he simply could not believe they were so obtuse as to be unaware that an omega in their own household was not experiencing a regular reproductive cycle. The complete lack of basic decency toward Charles and his future had sent Erik into a rage that he could not suppress. 

Erik struck the wood again, and again, and again. His world was nothing more than the block in front of him, the ax in his hand, and the movement of his own body. He could almost imagine each log he struck was the head of the men for whom he held such distaste. It was almost satisfying, almost.

“You gonna tell me what the hell you’re doing here?” Logan’s gruff accusation disrupted Erik’s rhythm and he laid down the ax.

“I would think that was obvious.” Erik replied coldly, internally glad to see Logan’s face flush red with anger.

“You’re gonna stand there and tells jokes? If we need firewood, I can chop it – you arrogant bastard.” Logan growled, coming forward aggressively and giving Erik a hard shove backwards, causing Erik to stumble slightly. “You know, for a second, I thought you might be here for the right reason, but no. You’re the same selfish prick you’ve always been.”

“I’m not here for me.” Erik fumed, pushing Logan back in turn. “I’m here for my husband.”

“Here to hurt him?” Logan slammed Erik into the wooden side of the stables.

“I came here to ensure his safety.” Erik snarled.

He and Logan grappled, Logan strength was more powerful, but Erik’s reach was longer and they remained locked in the stalemate, until Erik hooked his foot around Logan’s ankle and tugged, sending the other man sprawling onto his back. Erik immediately followed him down, pining the shorter man under him.

“I would never hurt him, never.” Erik vowed, his breaths coming in harsh pants.

“Damn fool.” Logan bit out, kneeing Erik in the groin and rolling him over, holding him down with a firm arm over his throat. “You just left the house, right after he told you he might be barren. You just stormed out and left. You think he’s not hurt?”

“I… I don’t…” Erik stumbled, unable to form words in the face of his shock.

“Idiot.” Logan scowled. “When I saw him inside, he looked like you tossed him away like garbage. You did that, Lehnsherr.” Logan grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet, and Erik leaned against the stables, too off balance from Logan’s revelations to steady himself. “You fix it. That kid deserves better than to be married to an asshole who breaks his heart every month.”

* * *

Charles was curled into a ball in a high back chair in the study. One of Hank’s books rested in his lap. He’d tried to read it several times over the past few hours, but since Erik’s abrupt departure from the discussion with himself and both doctors, he had been unable to read a word. Truly, he had been able to read words, they simply would not stick in his mind; they were lost in the swirl of his thoughts like leaves in an autumn wind. He had re-read the same passage a dozen times without success before he had given up and closed the book completely.

He had been seated, staring out the window, eyes unseeing, for an indeterminate amount of time. There was little light left in the sky, he could say that much, though it might be time to dine, or time for bed; darkened evenings were to be expected this time of year.

So absorbed in his thoughts and lost in his mind was he, he did not even hear when another person entered the room and sat across from him. It was the smell that caught his attention and caused Charles’ head to turn and his eyes to widen.

Erik had come.

“You didn’t come down for supper.” Erik said, his voice soft and measured. “I brought some food. And tea. I hope it isn’t too forward of me, but I thought you might like to try a new blend; something to replace the old, something new. A fresh beginning.”

Charles stared and blinked, and found Erik did not vanish no matter how many times he closed his eyes and opened them again.

“Will you try?” Erik asked gently.

Charles nodded and watched as Erik poured the tea. The scent of it was strong; it was what had caught his notice earlier. There was something sweet to it, yet also dark and rich. He reached out and held the cup between both hands, letting the smell waft into his nose and the heat warm his face. His first taste was tentative. He could not deny his feelings of apprehension, even fear. Could he forget all that had happened before? Could he ever really enjoy the pleasures of a hot cup of tea once more?

“What do you think?” 

Charles met Erik’s gaze over the top of his tea cup and found Erik was holding a cup of his own, drinking it confidently.

“You have had this blend before.” He declared, head tilted slightly as he observed his husband.

“I have. It is… uncommon amongst the upper classes, but my mother served it in our home when I was a child. It took me years to find it again as a grown man. I had no idea what it was called, and only the vaguest of memories of how it tasted. I had the stubborn belief I would recognize it when I smelt it again.”

“And did you?” Charles asked, drawn in by Erik’s story, and his honesty.

“I did.” Erik smiled slightly. “A Romani vendor in a market was selling it. It contains some sort of wild berry, though of course he would not give me the name of it.”

“And you have found it elsewhere since?”

“No.” Erik shook his head with a laugh. “But I struck a deal with the vendor. He supplies me with large quantities several times a year and I pay him an exorbitant amount of money.”

Charles found himself smiling despite himself. It was almost unfair how this man could bring him such pain, and yet pull smiles from him all within the hours of the same day.

“I shouldn’t have left without explanation this morning.” Erik said, his voice ernest and sincere, his eyes locked on Charles’ face. “I was upset – not with you, Charles, but with your so called family. If I could tear them limb from limb, I would.” Erik explained, his voice turning harsh and ragged. “Anyone who dares to lay a hand on you, I would -”

“I appreciate your instinct to protect me. I do.” Charles interjected. “It is in your nature, I’m sure.”

“Perhaps it is, but I should have been focused on you. I caused you pain, I made you doubt yourself, and that was not my intention.” Erik frowned. “You are of value to me, there is no one in my life of greater value to me. My choice that day, those months ago, to go to the Marko townhouse and steal you away from Shaw, it has brought me the greatest, most unexpected gift of my life. You are the omega I would chose for myself, whether you bare me a child or not.”

Charles felt the singular sensation of his stomach dropping as his heart swelled and heat flooded his body. Erik had just said words Charles had thought he would never hear; an alpha, his alpha, wanted him. The desire to throw himself into Erik’s arms was almost overwhelming.

Still, he had doubts and fears. It felt prudent to move slowly, cautiously. Testing the waters before throwing himself in head first.

“Would you indulge me in a match?” Charles ask, gesturing to the chess board by the window.

“Always.”

* * *

There was a familiar and comforting feeling to the evening. Watching Charles’ face, brow furrowed in concentration, over the chess board. Drinking tea together. Gentle, easy conversation. The burst of pleasure in his stomach when he spotted a soft smile on Charles’ face. It was so like the nights they had spent at the London townhouse, and yet, there was something different. 

An undercurrent pulsed through the room, a shift between them. They had both laid themselves bare in a manner they had not previously. When they spoke between matches, they spoke of important matters; of their pasts, their failures, their goals and dreams. Erik revealed the joy and comfort of his early years with his parents – a loving, bonded alpha and omega pair. He stumbled his way through the horror of his time under Shaw and his determination to succeed in making something of himself when he escaped.

In return, Charles laid bare his past with the Markos; how they had mocked and belittled him, the neglect of his mother, the coldness of their home. He described his short marriage, and Erik’s hands clenched to see the tears brimming in his eyes. Charles’ shame, his sense of personal responsibility for the failure of his marriage, was still so strong and Erik wanted nothing more than to hold him close and soothe him until Charles realized how worthy he was, how much love and care he truly deserved.

Erik found it difficult to open himself up, he had buried his past from everyone, even himself, for so many years. But Charles never pushed, or rushed. He listened to each piece Erik offered of himself with his full attention, and he gave back in return. Sometimes he would tell a secret of his own, other times he would reach over and lay him hand on top of Erik’s in understanding and commiseration. 

As the deep darkness of late evening settled over the room, conversation dwindled. Yet, the company of his husband felt right and good. Erik could see Charles’ eyelids fluttering and noted his attempts to suppress his yawns. Despite the air of calm serenity in the room, Erik knew it had to be broken.

“It seems I have exhausted you.” Erik said with a soft smile. “Would you allow me to escort you to your room?”

“I would be most grateful for the assistance.” Charles acknowledged. 

Erik stood and held the door for his husband, who ambled through slowly. As they made their way down the hallway, Charles swerved and stumbled. Erik caught his arm and held him firmly, troubled by Charles’ loss of balance and yet inordinately pleased to have the smaller man pressed against his side.

“I’m afraid I feel rather… fuzzy at the moment, as if the world is all a dream. I do apologize.” Charles said, his voice muffled in Erik’s sleeve as he burrowed his head into Erik’s shoulder.

Erik let himself smile fondly down at Charles, flooded with relief that Charles was trusting him once more, that they had been able to find their footing and start anew.

Reaching for the door to Charles’ room, Erik froze as Charles nuzzled into his neck.

“You smell good.” Charles murmured, sounding half asleep on his feet.

Erik awkwardly shuffled himself and Charles toward the bed, the smile on his face so wide, he could feel it in his cheeks. The sweetness of Charles’ affection, so often muted and restrained, now let free in his exhausted state was a gift Erik would not ake for granted.

As Charles collapsed on his bed, kicked off his boots, and snuggled into his blankets, Erik let himself observe, he let himself commit this moment, and all of the evening, to memory. The way the lamplight hits Charles’ chestnut hair, the soft plumpness of his lips, the sharpness of his mind, the kindness of his heart.

It wasn’t easy to leave, to back away from the bed, away from Charles’ sweet scent and step into the dark hall. Erik found himself wondering to the kitchens, in search of a stiff drink to replace the warmth he’d lost when he left Charles to sleep in his room.

He was not wholly surprised to find Logan there, a bottle in front of him. Erik sat across from him, setting down his own glass and Logan poured him a drink in silence.

“You get your head out of your ass and make it up to him?” Logan asked, scowling deeply.

“That is none of your affair.” Erik answered stiffly.

“Everyone here wants what’s best for him. Do you?” Logan slammed his hand onto the table.

“We’ve had this conversation once already, my answer is not any different this evening: Charles is my focus. Only Charles.” Erik glared back at Logan until he finally sat back in his chair and took a long gulp of his drink.

They drank for several more minutes, the tension in the room was less, but an uneasiness remained. Logan sniffed the air several times, much to Erik’s annoyance, a puzzled look on his face. Erik found himself scenting the air as well, curiosity getting the better of him, but all he could smell was the scent of Charles on his clothes.

“Is there something amiss?” Erik asked. “Has Betty made something of late that is not to your taste? You are sniffing the air like a dog.”

“I thought…” Logan shrugged and shook his head. “I thought I smelt something odd, like a spice I’d never smelled before.” Logan paused, his gaze circling the room. “It’s gone now.”

“To bed with you.” Erik instructed. “Clearly you have not been resting enough if you are smelling things that are not present.”

Logan muttered insults and protests, but after Erik stored away the whiskey, he stomped out of the house toward the stables where he chose to spend his nights in the loft above the horses.

Erik held a candle and climbed the stairs to his own room. He looked at the bed, longing for sleep, but his feet drew him to the door adjoining his room to Charles’. He lay his hand upon the cold wood and inhaled. Charles’ scent permeated his nose, his body relaxed and he head fell, all of his fatigue hitting him at once.

As he struggled with the blankets on his bed and built a makeshift bed on the floor at the door, Erik stripped himself of his outer clothes, fumbling with his boots and flinging off his jacket. Curling into the massive pile, the pull of sleep was strong and insistent. Breathing deeply, lulled by the comfort of Charles’ scent, Erik had only a moment to wonder why it seemed deeper, richer, almost spicy as Logan had mentioned earlier. Perhaps it was the lack of the tea in Charles’ system.

After a moment, Charles’ scent lessened, and the sweet familiar smell of lemons hit Erik’s senses. Secure in the knowledge that his omega was safe and close by, Erik’s eyes closed and sleep claimed him. Any worries, or questions he might have could wait until the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who've stuck with me! I truly appreciate each and every reader.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter (I think it might be one of my personal favourites).


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

“It is a shame I wasn’t here earlier. Your case would have made an excellent study to present at the annual Physician’s of London conference, or for our quarterly journal.” Dr. McCoy the senior prattled on as he broke his fast with Erik, Charles, and his son in the dining room. “Quite fascinating to find an omega unknowing ingesting this herb, quite unusual.”

Erik tightened his fingers around his fork and stabbed his eggs more vigorously than necessary.

“Father, I’m not sure Mr. Lehnsherr and Master Xavier would appreciate their private affairs being bandied about by all the doctor’s in London.” Hank said, nervously glancing across the table at Charles and Erik.

“I’m sure they understand the value to medicine.” Dr. McCoy said, waving his fork. “Mr. Lehnsherr has always been a supporter of the advancement of science.”

“I do support the advancement of science, Dr. McCoy.” Erik stated, glowering at the older man across the table. “However, I am not interested in having my privacy betrayed. I hope that my wishes on this matter are clear, Dr. McCoy: no one is to know about my husband’s health but the people in this room.”

“Mr. Lehnsherr, I would of course remove all names -”

“Not a word outside this room, Dr. McCoy. Not from you, or your son. If you do not follow these instructions, I will know, and you will no longer find yourself in my employ, or the employ of any other respectable businessman in London.” Erik declared.

“Well I hardly think...” Dr. McCoy the elder sputtered and then fell into silence.

Erik glared at Dr. McCoy the elder, not blinking an eyelash until the man ducked his head down and focused all his attention on his food. A feeling of hard edged satisfaction spread in his gut; he would do whatever it took to protect Charles.

“Charles?” Hank’s voice cut through Erik’s momentary pleasure. “Charles, you look pale, are you feeling well?”

Erik pushed his seat back with force, every fibre of his being wanting to go to Charles’ side, but Hank, who had been seated beside Charles, was much faster.

Hank’s hand rested gently on Charles’ forehead. Erik watched with increasing concern as Charles’ knuckles turned white as he gripped onto the edge of the table.

“The room is spinning, just slightly.” Charles answered, a sad chuckle escaping his lips.

“Did you sleep well?” 

“I had rather fantastical dreams, but I believe I slept well.” Charles replied, his expression puzzled.

“Will you allow me to escort you upstairs?” Hank asked. “I should like to listen to your heart and check your temperature. It seems perhaps the illness from the lack of the herb has returned.”

Erik wanted to protest. He wanted to rip Hank’s hand away from Charles head and replace it with his own. Logically he knew Hank was the man to tend to Charles. He had the expertise, he had seen Charles’ illness over the past week, he knew how to ease his husband’s pain and discomfort. He let them go, disturbed at how heavily Charles leaned on Hank as they left the room.

Erik’s chest felt tight as he sat back down at the table. Despite having half a plate of food left, his appetite was gone.

* * *

Erik reined in his horse at the crest of the hill and looked back over his land. The open greenery was lined by trees, and at the very edge of his vision a dark speck that was the main estate. He stayed still, his body on the hill, but his mind on a particular man inside the house, which now seemed much too far away.

“Don’t think you can see him from here, no matter how hard you try.” Logan commented drily

Erik gave Logan an annoyed look, unable to muster up the anger to speak.

“Dr. McCoy’s been taking good care of him.” Logan added, his voice as understanding as Erik had ever heard it.

“He was well yesterday.” Erik responded, eyes still locked on the horizon.

“And he will be well again. Tough little bugger, your omega.”

Erik’s hands tightened even harder on the reins. Jealousy toward the closeness and friendship Logan and Charles share threatened to overcome him, but he stubbornly tamped it down. Charles may consider Logan his friend, and Hank, and Raven, and a great many other people, but his words to Erik last night left no doubt that it was Erik he had chosen as his alpha and husband. 

“Charles has always been more than others have given him credit for.” Erik agreed, aware that he too was guilty of underestimating his husband.

He was not about to make the same mistake again.

* * *

It hit him suddenly: the heady, spicy scent, the itch under his skin, the sweat running down the back of his neck.

“Sean!” Hank hollered down the main stairwell. “Betty!”

“Something wrong, Dr. McCoy?” Sean’s red hair poked out at the base of the stairs.

“The alphas need to leave. Immediately.” Hank instructed, voice firm.

“Is it… is he...” Sean stuttered, unable to complete his thought.

“It is happening.” Hank answered. “Get them as far away as possible and keep them away.”

“What about Mr. Lehnsherr?” Sean ventured, looking slightly green at the mere thought of attempting to deny his employer anything.

“Your focus will be on keeping everyone else outside of the home.” Hank gulped. “I shall be responsible for speaking to Mr. Lehnsherr. This is a medical matter.”

Sean nodded and turned to leave, then paused and said: “Best of luck, Dr. McCoy.”

Hank watched the other man leave, wishing he could call out and ask him to stay.

“Very responsible of you to send the alphas away.” His father’s voice rang out from beside him.

“Thank you, father.” Hank mumbled.

“I’d thought the young master might have troubles with his heat, but from what I can smell, it seems he will come through this without much issue.” His father continued, a satisfied look on his face.

Hank opened his mouth, and then closed it slowly. His father couldn’t smell the intensity of Charles’ heat and the scent was stifling. It permeated every inch of the upper floors of the house. Hank could barely comprehend how his father could stand beside him, unbothered and full of confidence that Charles would not suffer under the sudden impact of such a heat.

With a long, silent look, Hank forced himself to acknowledge the truth: his father had aged these past few years, faster than simply the passage of time might suggest. His father’s hair was completely white, the lines around his eyes and mouth were deep, almost jagged. He wore glasses perched on his nose, but still squinted when examining patients and needed bright sunlight to read. It was long passed time he retired.

“Perhaps you could go with the alphas, father? To make sure they’re coping well?” Hank suggested. “I believe Logan and Mr. Lehnsherr were out for a ride. When they come back to the estate, perhaps you and Sean can intercept them and inform them of our current circumstances.”

Hank watched the way his father puffed out his chest and felt the rolling within his gut calm itself. 

“Most assuredly. Mr. Lehnsherr may be difficult to contend with – that man can be as stubborn as an ox.”

“It is possible Logan, Mr. Howlett, may be of assistance in detaining him. He is likely the only physical match to Mr. Lehnsherr.” Hank offered, though he had his doubts that anyone could deter Mr. Lehnsherr once his mind was set.

After assuring himself that his father was well equipped to join the alphas at the groundskeeper’s cottage, that they had prepared in advance for fear of just this occurrence, Hank strode off to attend to his patient.

Even outside his door Hank felt burdened by the power of Charles scent. He took a cloth from out of his treatment bag and tied it around his face, covering his mouth and nose, hoping to block some of the smell. Stepping into the room, it took only a moment for Hank’s positivity to sink; Charles’ skin was flushed red and he had already stripped himself of most of his clothes. Unlike earlier in the week when Charles had been overheated and laying on the floor in agony, now he paced, restless and rubbing at his own skin as if he could ease himself out of his own body. Hank took tentative steps forward, but Charles seemed completely unaware of his presence as he meandered about the room, muttering to himself.

“Charles?” Hank said, keeping his voice gentle and calming.

Charles turned at his words and blinked at Hank several times, before he responded. “What’s happening to me?”

“You’ve started your heat.” Hank replied evenly.

“A heat?” Charles repeated dumbly. 

“It has only just begun.” Hank explained. “You’re symptoms will likely intensify over time. You will need to eat and drink regularly. And you will need to… relieve yourself.” Hank continued, overcome with awkwardness.

“Relieve myself?” Charles gave a confused glance over to the chamberpot and back to Hank.

“Relieve your sexual needs, your need to mate.” Hank clarified, feeling his face heat.

“I have no need to mate.” Charles objected. “I simply feel unlike myself. Too hot. Too… odorous. Too restless. Are you certain this is not another form of illness caused by the lack of the herb? Surely this cannot be a heat! It is what I wanted, but it’s been years… I hardly know how I coped the first time.”

Hank hated to hear the increasingly desperate tone of Charles’ voice, it pierced his heart to see his friend wringing his hands, and voicing his doubts. And there was so very little he could do to ease Charles’ discomfort – unmated omega’s endured their heats, mated omegas relied on their alphas for care, comfort, and sexual satisfaction. Charles seemed to be both at once; married, but unmated.

“If you follow my advise, my direction, you will come out the other side of this heat well and whole. It will be difficult, but it can be done.” Hank declared with more confidence than he felt. “I am going to leave, momentarily, to collect food and water to bring to you. It is best to eat now, before you struggle… before it becomes difficult to focus on more than your omega desire to mate and be mated.”

“Thank you.” Charles answered stiffly. “I am certain I can keep my head about me, but I appreciate your assistance Hank. I will not be giving in to any baser urges – I am perfectly capable of controlling myself.”

Hank smiled to hide his disagreement, and quickly left the room. He prayed Charles might be right in his assessment, but he knew, after his years of medical training and experience with omegas in the surrounding area, the mind could only hold out against instinct for so long. It was no personal failing, it was simply the power of biology. Omegas were meant to be mated and produce offspring, and even an intelligent, stubborn man such as Charles could not deny that reality forever.

* * *

The tour of the estate was a welcome distraction. Despite the continued tension between himself and Logan, Erik found meeting the tenants, inspecting their land, and assuring himself that they and their families were living in comfort and in good health, was exactly what he needed to keep his mind occupied.

Darwin was an excellent stewart and Erik was both relieved and proud to find the tenants hearty and whole, and his list of repairs and other changes to improve profits and productivity limited.

Returning to the main estate after hours of riding, talking, and consulting, Erik felt weary, but satisfied. He had managed to push his concern for Charles into the back of his mind, assured at least slightly by Logan’s words and the knowledge that Charles would be well cared for under the care of the doctors McCoy. 

Hearing Sean’s overly cheerful voice ring out, calling for them to join an impromptu supper at the groundskeepers cottage, Erik tensed. He could hardly deny his hunger, and directed his horse to follow Sean and Logan, tamping down his desire to return to the main estate, and to Charles.

The arrival at the cottage, and the presence of every alpha member of staff in one place, was more than enough to cause Erik to pause, remaining on his horse, as Logan and Sean dismounted and greeted the others. The sight of Dr. McCoy, the senior, was enough to convince Erik something was afoot. 

He dug his heels into the side of his horse and thundered his way back to the main house. His long strides ate up the distance and he was seconds away from crashing through the front doors, when Hank McCoy, arms folded across his chest and cheeks dotted with pink, stepped outside and halted his progress.

“What has happened?” Erik demanded. “Where is my husband?”

“Charles is… fine.” Hank replied haltingly and Erik grumbled in response. “He is not unwell; he has gone into heat.”

“Into heat.” Erik bit out, his heart suddenly racing.

Hank had said Charles may never recover his heats, but that if he did, his first heat would be intense, and difficult. Erik’s eyes flicked upwards, searching for any sign of distress from the upper floors of the house.

“He has been… denying what is happening. I am not sure if your presence will be a help or a hindrance.” Hank continued. “I had not expected his reaction, if I am being honest.”

“He does not admit to being in heat?” 

“He had admitted to the fact, yes, with great reluctance. He is determined to see the course alone, without my assistance. I have offer a sedative -”

“My husband does not need to be drugged.” Erik growled.

“He is in agreement with that statement.” Hank nodded. “It was only a suggestion – it is a means some omegas choose when unmated.”

“My husband has me.” Erik stated, more than a little annoyed that Hank seemed to be under the impression that Erik’s presence may be irrelevant to the entire situation.

“I do respect that Mr. Lehnsherr, however, as Master Xavier’s physician at this time, he has had to be very honest with me about matters that are generally private. I am aware that you have a marriage in name only, and that you have not -”

“Do not finish that thought.” Erik instructed. “The state of my marriage is between myself and my husband. I will speak to him. If he does not agree to accept my assistance, I will remain in the home to assure he has all the food, water, or any other refreshment he may require. I will not be skulking off to the groundskeepers cottage to bury my head in the sand.”

“I am not certain he will be happy...” Hank mumbled.

“I shall determine how he feels. Are you going to stand in my way?” Erik challenged, stepping forward.

Not surprisingly, Hank moved meekly out of the way, allowing Erik to open the front door and charge up the stairs. The scent, Charles’ scent, stopped him in his tracks in front of Charles’ room.

“It is rather overwhelming, isn’t it?” Hank’s voice sounded behind him. 

Erik remained silent. Hank was right; Charles’ scent was undeniably intense, clogging Erik’s nostrils, despite the door between them. Erik had never experienced anything like it, not even when walking through a brothel with multiple omega’s in heat. The primitive urge to charge into the room and just be with Charles was nearly insurmountable. 

“I would like privacy and time alone with my husband.” Erik instructed, staying carefully in place until Hank turned and left, his footsteps sounding as he descended the staircase.

Erik took a shaky breath, through his mouth, and rapped softly on the door.

“Charles?”

Erik leaned against the door, waiting for an answer, but receiving none.

“Charles?” He tried again. “Please, just speak to me, let me know you are well.”

“I’m well.” A strained voice replied.

Erik let out the breath he’d been holding. He did not like how Charles sounded; exhausted, pained, and very much unlike himself. But he had responded, and Erik was thankful he had done that much.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Erik asked, palm still pressed against the door.

“What could you possibly do?” Erik ached to hear the hopeless tone in Charles’ voice.

“Anything. I would do anything you asked of me.” Erik answered sincerely. “I would bring you food and water. I would bring you fresh clothing. I would read you every book in the library. I would, if you invited me, open this door, enter your room and ease your pain for you. I would be alpha to your omega, I would end the emptiness and the ache. If you’d let me.”

Erik felt drained by the end of his offer; he hadn’t meant to say so much, to lay his heart so bare. But there it was, he couldn’t take it back now.

Forehead resting against the firm wooden door, Erik waited. He could hear movement on the other side, what sounded like shuffling and eventually a soft thud that Erik was almost sure was Charles sitting down on the other side of the door. He could swear his scent was stronger, that he could feel his husband’s warmth through the door between them.

“There’s a stack of books in the study.” Charles voice sounded close, so close that Erik almost reached for the knob to wrench away the barrier between them, but managed to restrain himself. “I would greatly enjoy hearing you read any of them.”

* * *

Erik’s voice was incredibly soothing. It likely shouldn't have been - Erik was reading from one of the books Hank had lent him, about herbs native to southern England and their medicinal properties - but it was. The individual words no longer held any meaning, but the rhythm and sound of Erik's speech was an anchor, grounding Charles in the moment and controlling his underlying feelings of panic. Charles couldn’t say how long he’d been listening, it must have been hours. At some point Betty had slipped a tray of food into Charles’ room through the adjoining door, but Charles couldn’t be bothered to leave his spot on the floor. He could hear every word Erik spoke, he could hear the minutest change in his tone, he would swear he could hear him shift his body. With his eyes closed, Charles could almost imagine there was no door between them.

For what felt like ages, Erik’s voice was the distraction Charles needed. His body still burned and ached, but if he focused on the words floating through the door he could forget about his body for a time. He could listen, and not be embarrassed that he lay on a sheet on the floor, naked, as his sensitive skin could no longer stand the constricting feel of clothing.

Charles couldn’t say exactly when things began to change. He couldn’t say when Erik’s voice had shifted from a distraction to a source of arousal. He could say that Erik’s scent got stronger, and Charles noticed, for the first time, how their scents mingled, how perfectly they complemented each other. His body began to move, restless and undulating on the floor. His breaths became shallow, his chest flushed. He stared at the door between himself and Erik, he took great lungfuls of air, the mix of their scents causing his cock to swell painfully, and slick to leak down his thighs.

Had anything ever smelt so perfect? Why was there a door between them? Charles wanted Erik closer. He needed him closer.

“If you only ask, I can be as close as you need.” Erik’s voice, low and rumbling, sounded from the other side of the door.

Charles blinked, realizing he had spoken his last thought aloud.

“Do you smell it too?” He asked softly, hands trembling. “Our scents. Together.”

“I do.” 

“I’ve never…” Charles swallowed loudly. “I’ve never felt like this before; so unlike myself. So full of longing. So agonizingly empty.”

“I could come to you.” Erik offered, his voice somehow closer than ever. “I could come to you, be with you, end your ache. But… but you must know what that means, Charles. You must understand what will happen. I will not come to you if you are not certain.”

“What will happen?” Charles asked, though he was sure he knew the answer.

“We will touch you, kiss you, caress every inch of your skin. I will end the ache in your body by easing inside of you. I will worship you and tend to you, until you know without a doubt how beautiful you are to me.” Erik paused and Charles shivered at the intensity of his voice. “We will be mated. I… it is likely I will bond with you, I cannot imagine how I could resist. You are the only omega I have ever wanted, the only person who has ever pushed beyond the facade I show the world, the only person to whom I wish to share all of myself. I want to see you through your heat, more than anything I have ever wanted. But it is your choice – it will always be your choice.”

Charles kept his eyes on the door and considered Erik’s words. He had offered more than Charles could have thought possible; he was allowing Charles to choose. Charles had never expected to have a choice within the bounds of his marriage. He had always known he would marry a Lord, or a wealthy man of business, a suitor who would benefit his family, and whoever that suitor turned out to be would have claim to Charles and his body whenever he so chose. Erik was giving him the power to control his own body, to choose with his own heart.

Charles lifted himself from the floor and walked slowly to the bed. He settled himself upon it, kneeling and breathing deeply. 

It was an easy choice in the end. He wanted Erik with the same fervor Erik wanted him. He wanted to be joined with his husband in every way. He wanted the chance to feel Erik inside of him, to take his knot, to swell with child. Their child. He wanted a chance to make the dreams of his childhood, the innocent hopes of a child, possible.

“Come in.” He called.

“Charles?” Erik replied, and Charles could hear the anticipation mixed with hesitancy in his voice.

“I want you, Erik.” Charles said, letting all his raw desire seep into his words. “Come in. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to all my readers. Thank you for your continued patience - this chapter took longer than planned, but it's because I was working so hard to make this chapter and the next what I wanted them to be (also at some point in there I wrote a Remix fic). I figure its better to take me time and write something I'm proud of, then post something just to stay on a schedule :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! All comments and kudos are treasured by this author and used as fuel to keep me motivated.


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

Entering the room felt like a sacred moment. Erik’s breath caught when he saw Charles on the bed: his body perfectly posed, his skin glowing in the light. And though Charles looked perfect, like a marble statute, the image of the ideal omega, his head was held high, his eyes fixed on Erik’s face. Charles may have asked him into the room, he may have been giving Erik the chance to ease his need and assist him through his heat, but he sat upright and proud, not an ounce of submission to be seen.

Erik’s heart swelled and his lips twitched in pleasure. His hands were also shaking, the fear of mating with an omega for the first time, and assisting Charles through his first heat brought up more fear than he would ever admit. He moved his hands behind his back, took a breath, and let his eyes roam over Charles.

His mate. His omega. So beautiful. So strong. Everything Erik had ever wanted and everything he’d never known he needed. All of it found in his husband. A man who’s own family had thought him damaged goods; they could not have been more wrong.

Erik stripped off his clothes slowly, tentatively, keeping his eyes on Charles, watching his reaction. He almost moaned aloud when Charles started biting his bottom lip, his eyes widening as Erik removed his shirt, and then his breeches.

Easing his knee onto the bed and settling himself beside his husband, Erik stopped just short of touching Charles’ alabaster skin. He let his head fall forward, his nose almost touching Charles’ freckled shoulder. He breathed deeply, letting himself scent. After hours of restraining himself, hours of trying to ignore Charles’ scent, breathing it in now, having it sink into his lungs, into his very being, was intoxicating.

“Won’t you touch me?”

Erik shook at the sound of Charles’ voice; so small and uncertain. Erik silently cursed all the people in Charles’ life who had treated him so poorly, for he knew it must have been their words that caused Charles to have doubts now, with Erik beside him, his shaft hard and aching, his entire body protectively wrapped around Charles’ smaller form, not touching, but tantalizingly close. Erik’s desire, his want was so apparent, and yet still Charles doubted.

“I fear if I touch you, I shan’t be able to stop.” Erik whispered, letting his breath blow onto Charles’ skin. “Would you still want me?” Erik raised his eyes to meet Charles’ wide blue gaze. “If after this first touch, I don’t let you out of my grasp until your heat fades, not even for a moment, would you still let me touch you?”

“Yes.” Charles trembled, his body shaking so much in response to Erik’s words his shoulder almost brushed Erik’s lips. “Please, Erik, won’t you ease the ache?”

When Charles’ hand unexpectedly landed on his thigh, it was Erik’s turn to tremble. His eyes locked on Charles’ fingers, blindly examining the blunt edges of his nails. Erik tried to maintain an aura of calm. He tried to tamper his reaction, but his instincts and the pull of Charles scent were too strong.

He dove forward with a growl, claiming Charles’ lips in a bruising kiss, the part of his brain screaming at him to be gentle completely overcome by his desire for his husband. A firm swipe of his tongue gave him access to Charles’ mouth, and hearing Charles’ sweet whimper of pleasure, Erik nipped his plump bottom lip, and then soothed it by sucking it into his mouth.

Erik eased back; to catch his breath and attempt to slow himself down, mindful of Charles’ innocence, of his troubled past. Charles, however, did not share his concern, he surged forward, pressing his lips against Erik’s once more, and wrapping his arms around Erik’s neck, causing their bodies to slide together. That touch, the heat of Charles’ body, the friction of skin on skin, toppled Erik over some unseen edge, and he was lost to the primitive motions of an alpha serving to an omega in heat.

He tumbled Charles to the bed. He ran his hands down his sides, letting one continue down to Charles thigh, and the other settle on the swell of his ass. Erik squeezed the lush flesh in his palm, and moaned low in his throat as Charles gasped, arching his body up in response to Erik’s touch.

“Perfect.” Erik murmured. “You’re so perfect for me.”

Erik let his hand wonder around from the outside of Charles’ thigh inward. Charles’ slick was leaking, coating the tender inside of his legs. Erik traced his finger upward, smiling through teasing kisses as Charles squirmed, obviously unsure whether he should try to move away, or shift closer to Erik’s touch.

“Do you want me to stop?” Erik asked, his lips tracing a line of kisses down Charles’ neck to his shoulder.

“No, no.” Erik felt Charles’ fingers dig into his shoulders, holding him close. “I… I don’t know, I don’t know what to do.” 

Erik kissed Charles gently, slowly, thoroughly. He wanted to calm his omega. He wanted to somehow show him, to make Charles understand through his kiss how very little it mattered what Charles knew, or didn’t know. Erik didn’t care where Charles put his hands. He didn’t care if his kisses were sloppy, tentative, too aggressive, or some combination of all three. All that mattered was that it was Charles in his arms, that Charles was trusting him, that they were hear, together.

“We shall figure it out together.” Erik said, when he finally ended the kiss. “I have never seen an omega through a heat. We will learn what pleases you, together.”

“And you.” Charles added. “I wish to learn what pleases you as well.”

“You please me, Charles.” Erik replied sincerely. “Just you.”

Erik reached moved his hand slowly, giving Charles several moments to protest, before he wrapped his hand lightly around his husband’s cock. Charles’ gasped and arched as Erik dragged his fist upward.

“Is this where it aches?” Erik asked, letting his lips kiss every freckle on Charles’ shoulder.

“No.” Charles managed, squirming beneath him.

“Here?” Erik teased, letting his other hand drift over Charles’ buttocks toward his leaking entrance.

Erik sucked on Charles’ neck to ground himself, as Charles bucked into him, his breathing ragged and his fingers digging into Erik’s back.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Erik said, his voice low and soothing.

Charles merely whined in response, shifting restlessly under Erik and driving him half-mad with desire. Erik knew he had to maintain his control; no matter how delicious Charles smelled, no matter how he rubbed himself against Erik’s straining erection, no matter how easily Erik slipped a finger into Charles’ drenched hole, he had to keep his head about him. Charles had never had a man worth trusting, and Erik was determined to be a man worthy of the trust Charles had given him. He had to get this first time right. He would put Charles first, treat him with all the love and care he so deserved.

“Let me take care of you.” Erik murmured into Charles’ ear as he moved his finger deeper. “That’s it, let me in. You’re so beautiful.”

“No… I’m… no.” Charles protested, shaking his head.

“You are.” Erik insisted. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“My leg...”

“Every bit of you. Every inch. Beautiful.” Erik kissed Charles’ plush red lips and then locked their eyes together. “I thought you we’re the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen the first time I laid eyes on you.”

Charles blinked, his blue eyes owlishly wide, his lips parted in surprise.

“You’re even more beautiful now; all flushed pink and ready for me.” Erik twisted his finger, curling it inside Charles until his head was flung back, his legs falling open, his throat letting out a hoarse cry of pleasure. “That’s it. So beautiful. Open up for me, darling.”

Erik eased a second finger inside of Charles and resumed his strokes to Charles’ cock. It seemed that with each touch, with each twist of his fingers, with each pull on Charles’ cock, Charles’ scent increased, until Erik felt as if it engulfed them. There was nothing else in the room but he and Charles. The flush of Charles’ skin moving from his cheeks, to his neck, to his chest. The little noises that escaped him when he could no longer contain himself became more frequent and higher in pitch. The subtle, but persistent movement of his hips, rhythmically moving in time with Erik’s fingers, instinctively asking for more, which Erik was more than happy to provide. He moved his fingers deeper, faster, matching the rhythm of his finger to that of his hand on Charles’ shaft.

It was odd to finally be here; mating an omega after years of denying himself. He’d always respected the bond his parents had had, the true love and respect they’d shared and had vowed he would not blithely run into romance. He had perhaps taken that vow too seriously, keeping himself so focused on work, on revenge, on achieving success, that he’d hardly thought about, let alone looked at an omega with interest. When he’d needed sexual relief, he’d always been able to find a beta willing to tumble for the night, no commitment involved.

Now, here with Charles, Erik was both grateful and intimidated by his lack of experience with omegas. Everything was so much more than expected, the way Erik could sense what Charles needed, his own body taking control even when his mind could hardly process what was happening.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Erik kept his focus on Charles, slowing his rhythm on Charles’ cock, tightening his grip and then loosening it, scissoring his fingers in Charles’ ass and curling them by turns, watching closely for Charles’ every reaction, discovering exactly what pleased him most. Peppering Charles with soft, light kisses, Erik added another finger, stretching Charles carefully and feeling the head of Charles’ cock leak onto his hand, hearing Charles’ whimpers increase in frequency and intensity.

“Let it go, Charles. Let yourself go.” Erik coaxed. “I’ve got you.”

With one more firm tug on Charles’ cock, and a deep thrust of his fingers, Charles wailed and come, spurting onto Erik’s hand and his own belly.

Erik kissed Charles’ shoulder lazily as he collapsed, wrung out from his first taste of the pleasure mating could bring. Erik lay down beside his husband, reaching behind himself to grab for a cloth, wiping himself and Charles clean. Throwing the cloth away, Erik placed his hand on Charles’ cheek, guiding him to turn his head until their eyes met.

He was stunned to see tears streaking down Charles’ cheeks.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, pained at the very thought.

“No.” Charles shook his head. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know it could be so… so much. I never thought anyone would touch me in such a way - with such reverence.”

“I love you.” Erik said simply, knowing he may never have spoken a truer statement in his life and yet still shocked the words had escaped him, words he never would have spoken before he met Charles. “You are precious to me.”

“I feel my love for you like a fire burning in my heart.” Charles confessed. “When you sent me away, I thought it but a dying ember, but now it is ablaze.”

“Love has made you a poet.” Erik smiled, watching Charles cheeks stain pink.

“You have made me this way.” Charles reached out and traced a solitary finger across Erik’s cheek, before setting on his lips. “Will you ease the ache again? I feel it, burning anew inside me, calling for you.”

Erik pulled Charles close, entwining their bodies and claiming Charles lips once more with a moan. He hoped his lips said what words could not: that he would stay forever if Charles needed him, that it was the greatest honour to serve his husband during his heat, that he too was caught in the flame of their desire, and he had not one reason to leave.

* * *

“You are absolutely certain he hasn’t been seen?” Shaw asked, voice hard and insistent.

“Yes.” Azazel replied, his face completely impassive.

“My contact reports Lehnsherr has not been on the floor of the club all week, and our second informant insists he hasn’t been seen at the townhouse either.” Emma added, keeping her voice calm and unaffected. 

“Have either of them provided false information in the past?” Shaw demanded, his tone dripping with paranoia.

Emma hesitated; everyone provided information that proved unreliable at times, often through no fault of their own. Shaw would not see it that way. However, Emma and Azazel had both held off giving Shaw this information as long as they could, to be as certain as possible that the information was accurate.

“The information is good.” Azazel confirmed.

“If it’s not -” Shaw stuck out an accusatory finger, “if it’s not, it’s your head on the line.”

Emma snuck a glance at Azazel, wondering why he had risked himself when he could have left her vulnerable, but the man looked as unflappable as ever.

“Get me Allerdyce.” Shaw instructed, turning toward Emma. “The man has a way with destruction and I have a mind to start a fire.”

* * *

How did other omega’s cope? How was it possible he’d once endured a heat alone? 

Charles thoughts ran away from him, alone as he was on the bed. He remembered the feel of Erik’s hands on him, the heat of their bodies moving together, the mingling of their scents, the feel of Erik’s mouth, so hot and unexpected on his prick. The sheer intimacy and vulnerability of it all threatened to overwhelm him at times, but somehow, Erik always knew and brought him back, grounding him with his touch.

Now, alone, Charles felt his skin burning and the ache inside of him building. His own scent was becoming suffocating and slick leaked down his thighs. He needed to be filled. He needed Erik.

Damn Erik for leaving him. He’d promised not to leave, but after hours together in the bedroom, in the pitch black of night, Erik had insisted he had to leave for food. At the time, unable to remember when he’d last eaten, Charles had approved of Erik’s thinking – they both needed food to get through this heat. But now, his body covered in sweat, moans escaping his lips, and his body rocking rhythmically on the bed, Charles couldn’t find it within himself to care about about much of anything except relieving his ache.

In what felt like seconds, Charles was on his knees, rocking, searching for some sort of friction, anything that might release some of his ache, that might mimic the magic of Erik’s touch. Rutting into the sheets provided little relief, in fact the mounting of his desire made Charles moan louder and his fingers curl into the fabric and twist. He lost all sense of time, or place; there was only feeling, sensation, and need.

“Charles?”

His name was being called, but the voice sounded distant, and it was of little importance. The raging need inside of him was all that mattered.

Then it hit him, Erik’s scent, the rustling sounds of his movement, the gentle, irresistible sensation of his touch. Charles groaned and flung his head to the side, needing to see his mate, needing to be certain he was there. Through his sweat dampened hair, he was met with the sight of Erik’s stormy grey eyes and he flailed in an attempt to move himself closer.

“Please, please Erik.” Charles begged, words almost beyond him.

“Shh.” Erik’s voice soothed. “Easy, darling. You need to eat.”

Erik held up some sort of food, something sweet with juice dripping down. Charles turned his nose up at it and growled. Why was Erik wasting time on something as trivial as food?

“No.” Charles swatted at Erik’s hand, knocking the offending food away. “You. Need you.”

“Charles you haven’t eaten in hours -” Erik began, gently pushing Charles’ hair out of his eyes.

“It aches.” Charles interjected, desperate. “I ache, Erik. Please, mate me, I need you.”

Charles sighed in relief when Erik’s hand moved from his forehead, to his back, stroking lightly. He arched into the touch, purring as contentedly as a cat.

“I see a quarter hour away from you was far too long, my darling omega.” Erik whispered.

Erik shifted closer to Charles, the bed shifting as he moved. Charles relished the nearness, the new depth of Erik’s scent, of their scent’s mingling together.

“I’m here now.” 

Erik’s voice was so hushed Charles had to nuzzle his face into Erik’s neck to hear him. The scent calmed him. Minutes passed with them tucked together, until the need built again.

All it took was a deep moan and rocking his body forward for Erik to understand. A sense of rightness settled into Charles’ being as Erik draped his larger body over Charles’ smaller form. It was like being shielded, held safe into his alpha’s arms. It was sexual and sensual, but more than that, it comfort and belonging. 

Within Erik’s arms, within this heat, as full of ache and pain and raw instinctive want as it was, Charles had found peace. He was home.

“That’s it, darling.” Erik whispered, his fingers probing, stroking, opening. “You’re so ready for me; so wet, so beautiful. Would you take me?” Erik sucked at Charles’ neck. “Would you let me claim you as mine?”

“Yes.” Charles hissed, his head flung back against Erik’s shoulder, his back arching and pushing his arse into Erik’s hand.

He needed it; to be filled, knotted, claimed. To know he was Erik’s and Erik’s was his; it was time to be mated in every sense – alpha and omega moving as one.

Charles couldn’t keep the surprised grunt inside as Erik began to ease his way inside of him. It was just right, and yet too much all at once. Erik was large, larger than he ever would have thought, but his body wanted every inch, leaking profusely and pulsing against the hard length of Erik’s cock.

Charles’ body froze as Erik eased forward, moving deeper and deeper. Erik touched him soothingly, one hand running down Charles’ side, his voice soft, whispering a stream of comforting words into Charles’ ear.

Almost as suddenly as Erik had entered him, he was fully seated inside of Charles; Erik’s body now frozen, the only bit of him moving was his mouth on Charles’ shoulder, giving small pecks and playful little licks.

“We are meant to be joined, alpha and omega, as one.” Charles whispered, almost unbelieving.  
That he should have found this; a partner, a lover, an alpha worthy of his heart and his body, had seemed such an impossibility for so very long. To have it now nearly brought him to tears. His chest shuddered as much with emotion as it did with desire, as the need built again. His body taking over where his mind could not, he began rocking; slow and shallow, yet unmistakably urging Erik on.

“That’s it. Just like that.” Erik muttered as his own hips began moving again, establishing a rhythm that caused Charles’ to see sparks.

It proved to be only the beginning. Whenever Charles was certain there couldn’t be any more pleasure, that nothing could possibly feel so good, there was more. More of Erik, more of them moving together is perfect harmony, more of their scents mixing and filling the room. Sometimes, Erik would shift and find a new, more incredible place inside of him, and Charles would cry out in heady pleasure. And when he wrapped his hand around Charles’ own leaking cock, Charles’ eyes rolled back into his head. It was all too much.

It was a place and time with no words, but then none were needed; their bodies knew what to do, their movements matched one another, they were perfectly in sync.

When he reached his peak, when he felt Erik’s knot within him, when Charles’ whole being was suffused with a pleasure he’d not thought possible, he keened, loud and long and shocked. He could hear Erik make a responding noise, approval perhaps, or a shared pleasure. The penultimate moment of their mating, or so Charles thought in that moment.

But then, as promised, Erik bit him – firmly and decisively – and Charles screamed, heat, desire, pain and pleasure all bursting within him. The world went blurry before his eyes, black inching around the edges and creeping forward.

Love and mating was a swirl of heat and flesh and rhythm. His vision going completely black, Charles gladly submitted himself to oblivion.

* * *

“Something off in the cellar...” Moira muttered as she crept down the rough, ill-lit stairs.

There were days when she felt every bit of her thirty five years and today was one of them. The morning hours had been filled with careless mistakes by the junior staff; maids spilling water jugs, the footmen tripping over the carpet, sending food flying over the carpet. Moira felt run ragged.

Now, there had been two complaints of odd smells and sounds around the house.

A thorough search of the dank, dark cellar proved fruitless. It contained stored items and tools, nothing more. Climbing back up the stairs, Moira stopped – a whiff of something had crossed her path.

Smoke.

Moira moved, following the scent as best she could. Any suggestion of smoke was to be taken seriously. In a crowded city such as London the sparks of embers from a fire could move from building to building with catastrophic speed.

She found the source of the smell near the back corner of the house; smoke and licks of flames were escaping from under the door of a linen closet.

Moira ran, down the hall to the servant bells and rang every one of them, signalling the danger to all who could hear. Racing down toward the main staircase, Moira stopped to catch her breath, and then raised her voice to alert the staff of the gravity of the issue.

“Fire!” Moira cried. “Fire in the east corner! Alert the staff at the club! All hands to water stations!”

Within seconds the house was buzzing, men and women carrying buckets of water and throwing it onto the door. At first, Moira felt nothing but pride at the efficiency of the staff and determination to beat the fire. However, after several minutes, her pride turned to fear – the fire was spreading. The water seemed to have no effect, or even to make things worse. And then a second fire was found. And a third. Smoke engulfed the hallways and everyone, Moira included began hacking.

“We must leave.” Moira called out. “Everyone out! Everyone!”

No one objected, for which Moira was thankful. A count of heads confirmed all the household staff and the majority of the club staff had left the building. Raven, however, was no where to be seen.

Moira charged back into the townhouse, yelling as she went. “Raven! Raven we must leave – there is nothing here worth your life.”

Several moments later, Raven stumbled through the smoke, her mouth and nose covered with a kerchief. In her arms was Angel.

“Is she hurt?” Moira moved forward to support Angel’s limp head and assist Raven.

“She fainted.” Raven replied as they moved forward together, out the front door and onto the street. 

Easing Angel onto the ground, Moira wiped the girl’s forehead clean of soot, fussing and calling for water.

“She tried to collect the bank notes from the club.” Raven said. “The club was untouched then, it seemed safe. But then, she didn’t come out. I went to check on her and a fire had broken out near the office. Angel had been trapped. Between the two of us, we managed to get through the fire, but she fainted soon after.”

“Poor girl.” Moira offered.

The truth was, as a doctor arrived to tend to Angel and the fire brigade appeared to continue the fight against the fire, Moira’s head was churning with troubling thoughts.

“We were deliberately attacked.” She said eventually, looking Raven in the eye. 

“I agree.” Raven replied harshly. “And I believe we both know the likely source of this cowardly attack.”

Moira met Raven’s hard glare with one of her own.

“Shaw.” They both answered.

“This time, he has pushed too far.” Moira declared, looking over toward the burning wreckage that had been the Lehnsherr townhouse. She could not even fathom the depth of the anger Mr. Lehnsherr was going to feel when he heard of this affront to his property, 

“Yes, he has.” Raven nodded. “I will ride out to Greymalkin to inform Mr. Lehnsherr of this madness immediately.”

* * *

There was much to a heat Erik had never anticipated. There was mating, of course, far more of it and more intense than Erik would have thought possible. But it was also soft and quiet, full of tenderness and intimacy. There were as many moments where Erik was buried inside Charles, knotted and floating on a cloud of pleasure, as there were moment of light hearted cajoling, and teasing, slipping pieces of fruit, thin slices of meat, and tender pastries into Charles mouth. There was care, deep abiding affection in the moments between matings, when Charles’ need was banked and Erik could massage his leg, applying a soothing balm, assuring himself that his omega was in as little discomfort as possible.

Sitting in a deep tub filled with deliciously hot water, Charles’ body leaning back against him own, sighing blissfully as Erik washed him, trailing a cloth down his chest, Erik felt drained, and sated. After days of exertion and dozens of matings to get Charles through his heat, the almost dreamlike quality of a hot soak was well earned.

For a man not general fond of leisure, Erik was thoroughly enjoying every moment he lazed in the bath with Charles.

“Have I finally eased your ache?” Erik asked lightly. 

“I believe so.” Charles replied and Erik smiled at the flush that stretched down his husband’s shoulders.

“Have I embarrassed you?” Erik teased.

Charles’ answer was nothing more than a panicked sound and a shake of his head. It was understandable that a young, inexperienced omega, having had such an intense heat, might feel overwhelmed by his body’s response. Erik himself could hardly believe all they had experienced together these past few days.

“You are an omega of strength, a man of great bravery. There should be no shame in your desire; we were meant to join together as we did.” Erik paused and smiled into Charles neck, at the sight of his bonding mark, red and slightly swollen, but healing. “I look forward to many such heats in our future.”

“Do you really?” Charles shift in his arms, turning to look Erik in the eye, his entire torso now flushed scarlet, his face a picture of brave uncertainty.

“Yes.” Erik answered, cupping Charles’ face in his hand. “My love for you will not alter or fade; it will be constant and unwavering. I look forward to sleeping every night with you in my bed and telling you how much I love and adore you before you fall asleep. I wish to wake to you in my arms and tell you how precious you are, how painfully beautiful and stunningly intelligent. And I hope, one day, that you will believe my many sincere and unwavering compliments.”

“It seems impossible at times, all of this.” Charles said with a sad little shrug of his shoulders. “For so long I was told the opposite – that I was unworthy, defective, and unwanted.”

“Whatever those dullards said of you over the years – your family, Lord Stryker – they were all wrong. They had no idea who you truly are, of the treasure they had in their hands. You are worth so much more than all of those bastards combined.” Erik growled. “I shall do my best to make you forget them.”

“It may take some effort.” Charles smiled ruefully. “And time. But I shall endeavor to try to believe your compliments, though I do hope they will remain well earned. I wish for us to be partners, I wish to ease the burdens in your life as you ease those in mine, I wish for us to conquer our demons together.”

Charles’ words had such impact; they made Erik’s stomach somersault and his heart clench. To have an equal, someone in his life to whom he could share everything – his hopes and dreams, his heartache and failure – when had he had such a thing? 

To keep such a bond, Erik knew that trust would be paramount.

“We will have a great deal to discuss then, you and I.” Erik admitted.

“Together, Erik, together we are more than the sum of our parts.” Charles replied, his eyes full of promise.

“Then together we shall be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this fic so far. I know a lot of you were likely waiting for this chapter and I hope it met at least some of your expectations.
> 
> I appreciate every reader and I do seriously treasure all comments and kudos. They fuel me to keep going - it means so much to us fic writers to know people are out there reading and enjoying our work.


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